Into the Blackest Night
by Ruby Casablanca
Summary: Post 4x10. Lucifer is back in his rightful role as the King of Hell, but his demons are far from content. Unsure whether or not they can trust their king to stay, Dromos and Squee hatch a plan to make sure Lucifer has no reason to ever go back to Earth. Their goal? Destroy everyone Lucifer cares about. Meanwhile, Chloe tries to adjust to life without Lucifer.
1. Prologue: The Beginning of the End

A/N: Finished Season 4 and it did not disappoint! I think moving to Netflix was the best thing that could have happened to Lucifer; there was so much character exploration and growth this season and I loved every second. This story picks up essentially where 4x10 leaves off. The title comes from the song My Love Will Never Die by Grace Wyndham aka the song that ripped my heart out. All future chapter titles will come from other songs featured in the show. Anyone else in love with Lucifer soundtrack just as much as the show? Those people deserve a raise! Anyway, not sure how long this one is gonna be, but I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Prologue: The Beginning of the End

Despite what the stories may say, Hell was not built in a day.

No, Hell was ever-growing, expanding to accommodate the constant influx of souls. Terrible, horrible souls. The worst that humanity had to offer, all locked away in their cells, forced to relive their worst nightmares and darkest memories.

That expanse was built upon the backs of demons. Hard-working, faithful demons that remained true to their king and the desolate wasteland they called home.

And then, there was Dromos and Squee: two of the ugliest, nastiest, most annoying demons Lilith had ever birthed. Not even she could bear to look at them, covered in bumps, boils, and burns not even a mother could love. Over the years, they had done many foolish, terrible things in the name of their king. From famine to plague, they'd done it all, and gained quite the reputation in the process. They even gleaned the admiration from Lucifer himself.

Until things went very, very wrong.

Who would've thought that kings didn't like being overthrown?

From his place in the labor line, Dromos squished his nose and sneered up at the throne that spiraled up into the void. He could not see his king's face, but Dromos knew it must have been twisted into something nasty, deep with displeasure. Lucifer had been especially…irritable…since reassuming his role as King of Hell, and he made sure that all the demons knew just how displeased he was to be home. Hell was even more oppressive than usual, the dark skies raining ash and hellfire with constant ferocity.

"It's not fair," Dromos snarled, his axe shattering another slab of rock. "It's not fair that we remained loyal to Hell, and _this_ is the thanks we get."

Dromos had only wanted what was best for Hell. Wanted a king that actually cared about Hell. Was that so much to ask?

From across the line, Squee grunted in agreement, heaving his pudgy body over to crack at the mountain in front of him.

Lucifer had been cruel to those who rose against him. He dragged the demons off to the deepest corners of Hell, had them tortured in every way imaginable, day and night so that their screams colored the background as a constant soundtrack alongside the clank of metal against rock. Those who had avoided torture earned an eternity carving cells into the vast expanse of cavernous tundra, forced to work their lives away without rest.

Dromos would have preferred the torture.

"He doesn't care about us," Dromos continued, ranting to whatever demons would listen. "He's just going to leave again as soon as he gets the chance."

"What good's complaining about it gonna do?" Squee asked, wiping sweat off his brow. Dromos could sense his unease, his hurt at being abandoned. It was a pain that all demons carried now that they knew the truth about their King. "We tried replacing him, and we failed. He's got those mortals now. So long as they exist he'll never see us as anything other than demons. We're expendable. Might as well accept our fates."

Squee went back to toiling away at the face of the mountain, but Dromos had had a revelation. Suddenly, the answer to all their problems seemed clear.

"What if he didn't?"

Squee scowled and fixed Dromos a look. "Have you been breathing too close to the thermal vents?"

"Think, Squee!" Dromos demanded, knocking Squee's leathery skull against the mountain. Squee snarled and rubbed his temple, ready to bite Dromos' hand off. But Squee knew better than to lash out at his superior. "You said it yourself: Lucifer has mortals up there, ones he came here to protect. So long as they remain, he'll always try to get back to them. But…what if those mortals no longer existed?"

"You mean, get rid of them?"

Dromos nodded, a manic glee in his eye.

"He'd have nothing to go back to, no reason to return to Earth. Ever."

"You're missing the part where _we_ would need to get to Earth, genius," Squee scoffed, picking his axe back up. "There's no way we can get back up there by possession, not with Lucifer breathing down our necks. And if we did try, we wouldn't have necks for long."

"Leave that to me," Dromos said, his tiny mind whirling through all their limited possibilities.

Just then, thunder rumbled through the valley of Hell. It was not uncommon to have heat storms full of lightning and blistering wind. What was uncommon was what fell from the sky: a singular object, tiny and dense and the size of a plum. It cratered the ground beside Dromos and Squee. The two demons looked at each other, Dromos finding the strength among them to pick the object up.

It was a crystal - no, a vial. The same vial that Dromos had held before when he was going to poison the half-angel baby.

Suspicious, Dromos unscrewed the lid and took a whiff of the liquid inside. It was not pleasant, a heavy perfume mixed with the scorched, sulfuric scents of Hell. The same mix from the banishing spell.

Something else lied in the tiny crater: a slip of parchment. It was the old-fashioned kind, pulped and pressed from papyrus from a time before mills. The writing upon the slip was just as ancient, glyphs spelling out a message in a language older than most civilizations.

Dromos read it easy enough.

_Blood of the false king will roll, and Heaven and Hell shall have their retribution._

Dromos looked up to the sky, now with a bit of wonder.

"What is it?" Squee demanded, his warty nose poking into Dromos' thoughts.

Dromos smiled, crooked fangs peeking out behind twisted lips. "Seems like we got ourselves some help from above."


	2. Nothing's Ever as it Seems

_In a world on fire_

_Nothing's ever as it seems_

_Even your dreams_

_Bathed in gasoline _

_\- World on Fire by Klergy, Lucifer Episode 4x03_

* * *

Nothing's Ever as It Seems

"Trixie!" Chloe called, her voice echoing down the hall. "Hurry up or you're going to be late!"

Her daughter's response was garbled, but Chloe could hear the frenetic movement from the bedroom, so at least Trixie was doing something. Good. Chloe needed a moment to herself.

She placed her arms out on the kitchen counter, closed her eyes, and just breathed.

What struck Chloe first was how much it hurt. Deep breaths in and out, in and out, in and out, each one punctuated by this deep, aching pain coming from behind her breast bone. Had it always been there? Or was this simply the manifestation of a heart that had been shattered one too many times and finally failed to be put back together again? She hated to think of herself as broken, but there was no better way to put it. Since Lucifer...since he left...it was like a piece of her had left with him, and now...Chloe didn't think she would ever be fixed. Not so long as the one who held that piece of her heart remained in Hell for all eternity.

Tears stung at her eyes, and once more Chloe was overwhelmed at the emptiness of her too-large house.

It had been months since Maze had moved out, but now Chloe felt her absence even more. When she first came back from Rome, Chloe felt relieved that Maze had left. Maze was a demon. Maze was dangerous to have around Trixie. Now, Maze's absence was another hole in Chloe's heart.

Everyone was leaving her.

"Mommy, are you crying?"

Trixie was standing at the counter, her pigtails crooked as she cocked her head, studying her mother. God, Chloe needed to get herself together, if nothing but for Trixie's sake. Chloe cursed herself mentally, shaking her head.

"No Monkey," Chloe lied, pushing a smile onto her face. Most days she was fine, but some days were harder than others. Today had been a hard day, and on hard days, Chloe wanted to curl up into a ball and cry into her sofa. She did not want to worry her daughter. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Worry about how mad your teacher is going to be for holding up the field trip."

Trixie, however, did not seem convinced, her eyebrows arched on her small forehead. "You definitely look sad. Do you need a friend? I can skip the field trip, and we can watch movies and eat chocolate cake."

A friend...now there was an idea. It wasn't like Chloe could talk to Dan about everything, or Ella. They had enough on their plates. Besides, they wouldn't believe her even if she tried. Lucifer had stared Ella in the eyes and confessed and she thought he was joking. Without proof, they would think she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had. Loving the Devil had to be the craziest thing she had ever done. The hardest thing, and the best.

Chloe laughed, but the hurt remained. "That's sweet baby, but I don't think a friend is going to help this time."

"You always say that when somebody's going through something, that's when they need their friends the most," Trixie reminded her, her chin jutted out as if to dare Chloe to take her words back.

"You're right," Chloe sighed and smiled a little more brightly, ruffling Trixie's hair. "But you still have to go on the field trip. Come on. We're definitely going to be late now."

Chloe watched as Trixie bounded down the hall to grab her backpack near the front door.

Maybe she would call Linda, see if she was up for visitors. She hadn't been over to see the baby since the kidnapping. It had been too hard to be around the happy family while her heart was raw and bleeding. But maybe now was the time to start moving forward and putting heartbreak in the past. Every day, the sun would rise, the world would keep turning, and Lucifer would remain in Hell.

As much as Chloe did not want to accept it, Lucifer was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

... _ ...

By the time Chloe made it to the school, they were only ten minutes late and the teacher was only mildly pissed off. All things considered, it could have been a lot worse. Chloe made sure Trixie had her lunch and her permission slip before letting her on the bus. Chloe sat and watched as the chaperones welcomed her on board, as Trixie's head disappeared behind rows of plastic seats, as the big yellow bus rumbled to life and chugged out of the lot.

Leaving. Trixie was leaving.

_It isn't like that_, Chloe reminded herself when she felt the tears coming again and she'd be damned if she lost in this parking lot with all the soccer moms watching her. _Trixie will be back in the afternoon, Dan will pick her up, they'll go for ice cream, and she'll spend the night at his place. Like every other night. _

Not everyone in her life was Lucifer. Chloe just wished his loss didn't make everything so_ hard_.

Going into the precinct every day, staring at the chair he used to claim, having everyone ask 'where did your partner go?' and watching their faces contort as they tried to figure out what went wrong was _hard_. Going on cases and feeling a black hole at her side where he should have been, consumed by uncomfortable silence, was _hard_. Driving past Lux, the lights in the building off, the entire space devoid of life when it was once flashing and vibrant, was _hard_.

To think, only a month ago, everything she had ever wanted was so close within reach. In those few moments after the dust had settled and Charlie had been saved, before Lucifer had dropped the bomb of his going away, Chloe thought she could truly have it all.

Now all she had was an abandonment complex.

Putting on her sunglasses, Chloe bucked up and got back in her car. She had a full day of work ahead of her, and she could not afford to keep losing her head over every little thing. However, there was no way she could face the day as drained as she was now. Pulling out her GPS, she searched the address of the nearest coffee shop. Normally she would just brew her own at home, but she had been so out of head that she didn't have the time. Between remembering to make a lunch for Trixie's field trip and the physical effort of getting out of bed this morning, she didn't have the energy to think of much else.

Thankfully, coffee was only five minutes away.

Chloe may have driven faster than necessary to get to her destination - recklessly, even. She pulled up to the curb, her car crooked in the space, but she wasn't in the right head space to think to fix it. She got out the car and started walking in the direction of the coffee shop. It was fine. People parked worse than that all the time. If she got a ticket, she would worry about it then. It wouldn't be her first ticket. But her tail was sticking out a little too far; what if she got hit? The last thing she wanted was to be stranded, not with so much work waiting for her at the station, and her coworkers were already starting to think she needed time off because she couldn't cope -

In her distracted daze, Chloe ran straight into a jogger.

She lashed out with one arm to catch him, but it was no good. The jogger had already fallen to the ground.

"I'm so sorry," Chloe apologized, mortified.

How had she not seen him? He was wearing bright yellow running clothes for God's sake! She should have seen him. How sleep deprived was she? Joggers did not just come out of nowhere.

"It's quite alright," the jogger assured, seemingly not bothered. In fact, didn't seem concerned about himself at all. Instead, he took Chloe's arm and pulled himself up, assessing Chloe with concern knit between golden brows and endless blue eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine," Chloe stammered, woozy from the impact of hitting a jogger who must have had muscles carved from steel. "I'll be fine."

The man stared at her for another minute, watching Chloe try to gather her bearings. Chloe knew she was still reeling, still gripping his arm for dear life from when she had tried to stop his fall. She wasn't fooling anyone. So, she forced her fingers one by one to unpry themselves from this nice man's arm. She forced herself to stand up straight and pull her jacket closer to her chest, trying to regain some semblance of self-confidence.

Then, Chloe took one step and felt the Earth violently shake.

"Pardon my overstepping, but you really don't look fine." He wore one of those smiles that was in reality a grimace or a 'lady you really need to get your head examined' pity glare. The only difference was that there was a calming element to his smile, one that tamed the overwhelming dread Chloe had been carrying ever since Lucifer left. "Can I get you something? Some water, maybe a coffee to clear your head?"

Normally, Chloe would tell guys like this to get lost. As a cop and single mother, she could take care of herself. But there was something about this man in particular, something about breadth of his shoulders, the set of his jaw, the shagginess of his sandy blond hair that made Chloe envision him as a giant teddy bear. And when he spoke, she felt _safe_. There was a sincerity in his offer that made her feel warm and cared-for, and when was the last time, outside of a work-related crisis, that someone genuinely asked her if she was doing okay? Trixie had said Chloe needed a friend, and she could really use someone to lean on right now.

Besides, she was going to get coffee before this accident happened anyway. What was the harm?

"Yeah," Chloe found herself saying, nodding her head. "Yeah that would be nice."

"Okay." The stranger smiled and steered her toward the coffee shop.

They had gone half a block before Chloe realized. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

The stranger smiled again, that same calming smile that made everything feel like things were going to be okay. "My name is Michael. Nice to meet you."


	3. Running Out Again

_She's running out again_

_Oh, she's ru-u-u-u-u-u-unning out...again..._

_\- Creep (Lucifer version), Episode 4x01_

* * *

Running Out Again

The moment Chloe caught the scent of freshly ground beans and cinnamon thrust under her nose, she allowed herself to relax.

Or, at least relax as she could with a strange man sitting across the table from her.

Chloe still didn't understand what compelled her to accept the stranger's - Michael's - invitation. It was innocent enough, and Chloe didn't get any creepy or sinister vibes off of the guy. She did have enough common sense, even now, to know not to go sauntering off with a serial killer. When she first saw him, Chloe felt some insane urge to trust him with everything she had. However, the longer she sat in the shop in silence, the more she began to doubt her ability to make sound choices.

"Feeling better?" Michael finally asked. He had barely touched his cup, preferring to recline in his chair and watch the people come and go.

"Yeah, actually," Chloe replied. Seated and distracted from everything going on in her life, she could feel herself calming down, the panic from earlier fading.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

At first, Chloe was hesitant. She was already imposing on this man - whom she just met via knocking him down. She did not want to give him any more personal information other than how she took her coffee. But her hesitations faded the longer Michael gave her his attention. In fact, the longer she sat in his company, the more she wanted to share.

Soon enough, the whole story - censored for the mortal ears - came pouring out.

" - everyone keeps asking me these questions and...it's just so _much_," Chloe rambled, talking more to her coffee than to the man across from her as she finished. Michael seemed to be listening intently, his eyes never wavering from her face. His focus was almost unnerving, his eyes so very blue and dedicated to giving everything to Chloe's story. A story she now realized made her sound like a whiny, entitled child. She groaned. "I'm sorry...am I making any sense?"

"I have never had the particular experience you speak of, but I was raised with many siblings. I am accustomed to having many voices in my ear. I understand your frustration," Michael replied, his speech eloquent and a bit odd, just like Lucifer's. Usually that would make Chloe's heart do a terrible twist in her chest, but hearing Michael's voice was like a balm, soothing her heart instead of irritating it.

Something else stuck out about his response. _Never had this particular experience._

"So, you've never had a job with co-workers?" Chloe asked, curious.

"Afraid not," Michael smiled a little, though for the first time, there was something unkind around the edges. "I am part of a...family business...so I suppose my siblings can be considered co-workers. Still, our jobs are mostly separate. I have been on my own for eons."

Another curious turn of phrase: _Eons._

"Can I ask..." Chloe started, unable to put what she wanted into coherent phrases. Her mind was going haywire at the possibility. "Are you...are you _the_ Michael?"

"_The_ Michael?" he parroted, one eyebrow arched part in amusement and the other part confusion.

"You know..._Michael_," Chloe prompted again. She gestured behind her, trying her best to mime wings without saying the word out loud. Because verbally accusing someone of being an angel was _so_ much worse than only implying it with body language. Obviously.

"I am still confused," Michael said, looking around the coffee shop as if the other patrons could lend a hand in helping him solve the mystery. His smile looked so lost, so unassuming...

Chloe groaned internally and fought the urge to throw her head on the table.

_Of course he isn't that Michael_, Chloe scolded herself. He would have gotten the hint by now if he was. This guy was so completely ordinary that he was one FitBit away from being a walking stereotype for single men under forty. Was she so paranoid now that everyone she ran into these days had to be supernatural? He was probably one of those guys who liked to show off just how many books he read in college.

"Sorry," Chloe apologized, not knowing where this urge to tell this stranger everything was coming from. "Sorry. I've been through _a lot_...and I thought...but anyway, I was wrong. And I'm sorry. I'm sure the last thing you expected before your run this morning was to be run down by a crazy lady."

"You are not crazy, Chloe," Michael said, and damn, wasn't that nice to hear out loud.

Michael reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, a grounding weight. Her first thought was how _warm_ his hand was, but as soon as his skin touched hers, Chloe felt all the tension in her body release. She felt lighter. The ache in her chest, lessened. She found it easier to breathe. For the first time in so long, she didn't feel like the world was crumbling around her.

It was, suddenly, something Chloe could not go without.

The familiar ding of Chloe's phone broke whatever trance that had washed over her. She looked down and saw a single text from Dan: _**ETA?**_

Chloe checked the clock and cursed. "I'm late for work."

"You should go, then."

Michael was sat back in his chair, sipping on the edge of his cup. He didn't seem upset about the interruption. In fact, he seemed rather unaffected by everything, remaining his constant, mellow self. Chloe wished she could be like that. She could stand to have more of someone like that in her life, if nothing but to keep her sane.

"Do you think we could do this again sometime?" Chloe asked, gesturing between the two of them and the shop. "I know that we just met - I mean, you barely know me - but my daughter keeps telling me that I need a friend, that I should talk to someone, and you're the first person I've talked to that doesn't treat me like I'm losing my mind. But, if you don't want to, I totally get it. Or, if it's too much coffee - "

"I like coffee." Michael saved Chloe from her rambling with a smile, bright and shining. Chloe let her panic of rejection ease as she realized that this was his way of agreeing. "Say, here? Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Chloe agreed. She liked the quick turn around. She found herself craving his calming presence despite not having left it yet. It was the strangest feeling, the only one she'd had in the past month that didn't bring her pain or sadness, so she didn't question it. She didn't want to ruin the only good thing she'd stumbled upon so quickly. "That works for me."

"Wonderful," Michael beamed, and for a second, Chloe thought she had caught a glimpse of the sun itself in his smile. Completely awestruck, Chloe barely had a chance to process that Michael was getting up, pushing in his chair, _leaving_. "Be well, Chloe Decker."

He was gone before she could respond. Chloe was so baffled by his abrupt departure that hadn't even had the time to panic about him going. Huh. Would you look at that. Of course, it was then she realized that they had made plans without exchanging numbers. And Michael had left his wallet on the table.

Chloe took the wallet and ran out after him. "Wait, you left your - "

Too late. The street was empty, no yellow jogger in sight.

... _ ...

Only three officers gave Chloe side-eye as she walked down the steps into the precinct.

It could have been worse. She could have walked in on the middle of a meeting or an arrest. Thankfully, the station looked pretty dead, only a few people walking around, filing papers and talking to their coworkers. Chloe kept her head down and made a bee-line to her destination, not stopping to talk or say hi to anyone. She was too preoccupied thinking about Michael.

His wallet was a heavy weight in her pocket. She ran her fingers over it, contemplating exactly what she had gotten herself into. Michael could have easily tried to ditch her - that was the only reason she could think for him making plans without getting her number to coordinate. He could easily stand her up. But, then again, she had his wallet. Chloe's first thought would be to open it up and call the number on his license, but, upon second thought, the wallet was incentive for Michael to return to the coffee shop.

Was she wrong for wanting him to show up?

That was the question Chloe kept asking herself as she made her way to the forensics lab. The door was shut, but Chloe could still hear the music pounding from the other side from down the hall. Chloe smiled. Typical Ella.

When Chloe pushed open the door, Chloe was greeted by a familiar sight: Ella dancing around her lab as she poked and prodded at the assortment of body parts and bloody things that took over her work bench.

Chloe knocked on the door, startling Ella into nearly tripping over her feet.

"Decker! What's going on? Long time no see," Ella beamed, running over to give Chloe a hug. Ella had been in much higher spirits lately, her cross necklace fastened back into place. Whatever she was working through, she had found her way out of the dark, something Chloe was envious of.

"Just thought I'd check in, see if you have anything..." Chloe trailed off, surveying the area which was much messier close up...and more disturbing.

The forensics lab had turned into somewhat of a dump/morgue hybrid since the demon possession incident. Of course, because no one could know that demons possessed the bodies of nearly five dozen random civilians, the entire precinct thought that they had some sort of strange serial murderer on their hands. That, or an outbreak of some unknown disease. Ella was that of the latter camp. Chloe had had to sit through many a rant about possible sources of contamination and biochemical warfare.

"Nope. I've got zilch. Nothing. Nada," Ella emphasized, spinning on her heel to change out the slide on her microscope. "I'm not giving up though! Not by a long shot. There's something here, I can feel it."

"I meant anything related to new cases...but maybe you're just feeling all the flies that have made a home in here," Chloe tried to joke, but it fell a little flat when there were legitimate flies circling some of the items on the table.

"Wait and see Decker, you'll be eating your words," Ella promised, though not maliciously. She looked playful, happy even to have a challenge to focus on. Chloe wasn't going to stop her, so long as the routes she took remained on the disease-oriented and not the supernatural. "But, as for case work, that's also a no. No one has brought in any new evidence in days. It's all been traffic arrests and drugs. Sure, it's good for the city, but it's kinda boring around here now, especially since Lucifer left."

Chloe fought the urge to flinch. Ella did have a point though. In the weeks since Lucifer left, LA had been...quiet. Boring, even. Not saying that there was a correlation between Lucifer and the murder rates in the city, but sometimes it felt like Chloe was being punished. First, the man she loves has to leave her, and then her job, the one thing she used to love more than anything, becomes unbearable.

_Serves you right,_ the dark part of her mind taunted. You deserve this torment. _This is what you get for doubting him, for trying to poison him, for thinking he was a monster._

Before Chloe had the chance to spiral, someone else walked into the lab.

"Hey Ella, I just wanted to run this report by - " Dan looked up from the paperwork, spotted Chloe, and his expression changed. She hated that the change included pity. Dan, of all people, should have known better than that. "Oh, hey Chloe."

"Hey Dan," Chloe replied with what she hoped was a smile. It was hard to get her face to cooperate sometimes.

"We missed you at roll call, didn't think you were gonna make it in this morning."

"That makes two of us."

The room fell into a heavy silence as Chloe and Dan waited for the other to speak next. The silence was filled a dozen unspoken things as Dan struggled to hold his tongue while Chloe silently pleaded with him not to ask.

"I'm going to go get some donuts from the break room," Ella said, catching on to what was happening. She started creeping towards the door, nodding her head. "Anyone want anything while I'm gone? Nope? Great, be back...soon..."

Chloe could have cursed Ella for leaving her alone with her ex. Not that she didn't like being around Dan; Dan was one of the few people Chloe could tolerate at the moment. She just tolerated him a little less. Mostly because he knew her better than most, and he could tell when she was in a bad place. The last thing she wanted right now was a baby sitter.

However, it was abundantly clear that God himself did not give a damn what Chloe wanted. She was stuck in a lab with Dan, who had his 'let's talk' face on.

"Listen, I'm just gonna be up front about this. I don't understand what it was you had going on with Lucifer, or why he really left town, but it was obvious that you cared about him...and he cared about you. A lot," Dan said, which was the kindest he'd spoken of Lucifer in a very long time. He was probably only doing it for Chloe's sake, but she appreciated it.

"Yeah," Chloe swallowed down tears she refused to shed. She would not break down in front of Dan. She would not break down -

"Then can I give you some advice, as someone who has been right where you are now?" Dan asked, though Chloe was going to give it whether she wanted it or not. "You've gotta take time for yourself. Let yourself feel the pain. It's the worst feeling in the world, and it feels like it's never going to end, but it does. Eventually, you make it out to the other side."

"And what then?"

"I don't know. I'm still in the middle of it," Dan admitted, and Chloe ended up laughing. Genuinely laughing.

"Great advice, Dan."

"Misery loves company right?" he joked dryly. They were standing side to side now, shoulders nearly brushing. His presence was soothing in a different way, in a familiar, non-judgemental way. He also carried the same aches as Chloe, the same grief. Lucifer may not have been dead like Charlotte was, but he was as good as gone. "But what I can tell you, from what I've actually experienced, is that each day gets a little easier. You just have to remind yourself what you have left instead of what you lost. I lost sight of that for a while, but I got it back. You'll get it back too."

Chloe wanted to believe that, desperately. And maybe one day she would. That day was not today. Dan seemed to know that, but he still carried on.

"I know I haven't always been there for you, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"Thank you," Chloe said, grateful and touched at the offer. "But, I, ah, actually think I might have found someone."

"That's great Chloe," Dan replied, genuinely happy for her. There was no jealousy, no hurt feeling. Just happiness. He lingered by her side for a moment longer before taking a step back and waving his stack of papers toward the doors. "Anyway, I should probably get back to these reports."

"Right, work," Chloe reminded herself. She actually had to do detective-work, not just run to Ella's lab for social/crying hour.

Dan chuckled, the worry he'd held back seeping through. "You should seriously think about that time off. I know that all you want to do is jump into work and push the feelings away, but you're gonna burn out Chloe. It looks like you've already started."

That was an understatement. Chloe had been "burnt out" since about two days after Lucifer left. Now, she was running on reserve fumes, and those were getting dangerously low. But she couldn't sleep, not without the nightmares and the constant waves of grief. Eating wasn't all too enticing some days. What little she did have went to Trixie, and even that was getting to be sub-par. Chloe wasn't just slipping, she was deteriorating. It was a problem, one that she had refused to address, but now that Dan had said it, she couldn't go back.

"You're right, I - " Chloe cut herself off and threw her hands in the air. She had no excuse, no follow up for her behavior. Not one that would make sense. "You're right."

"Go take the day off, get some rest. I've got Trixie later. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Yeah. Okay," Chloe said, standing up a little straighter and putting her hands into her pockets. "I've been meaning to text Linda and catch up. I think I'll go over, see Charlie."

Dan smiled. "I'll go tell the Lieutenant."

He looked so proud of her. Chloe didn't know what for, but whatever it was, she didn't deserve it.

"Thanks, Dan. For everything."

Dan nodded. "Offer's always on the table."

Chloe would keep that in mind, her fingers running over the leather seam of Michael's wallet.


	4. Hold Tight to the Memories

_Are you terrified? _

_When you close your eyes? _

_Hold tight to the memories._

_Let fear fall at your feet._

_\- Hallelujah by FVR DRMS, Episode 4x10_

* * *

Hold Tight to the Memories

_This was a bad idea,_ Chloe thought as she studied the woman in front of her: still in pajamas, glasses askew, blonde hair in a messy ponytail, and dark circles underneath both eyes. The woman carried a baby in the crook of one arm, a baby that was fussing up a storm.

"Hi," Chloe greeted, a small smile on her lips. "Is now a bad time?"

"Chloe," Linda said, a bit stunned as she processed who exactly it was at her front door. When she got over the shock, she opened the door wider. "No, please, come in."

Obviously it was a bad time, but Linda was too polite to say otherwise. Chloe could tell from the strained quality in her voice and from the way the house looked.

It was as if someone had taken a bomb and set it off in Linda's living room. There was half-folded laundry in piles everywhere. Every surface that wasn't covered in clothes was covered in baby toys or baby contraptions. When she looked up, Chloe could see every fan, exposed beam, and window was lined with bubble wrap. Some of the banisters and sharper corners on the ground were lined with bubble wrap as well. Chloe had to walk through some strange winding path just to get to the kitchen, where there was still at least a week's worth of dishes in the sink as well as both clean and used baby bottles all over the counters.

Linda kicked a rattle out of the way as she opened the fridge. She pulled out a bottle and a pitcher of filtered water.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Linda offered, banging through her cabinets to find a clean cup. "I have water or formula. Take your pick."

"I'm fine," Chloe replied and took a seat at the kitchen table, not wanting to bother Linda more than she already had. It was clear now that Chloe was intruding, and she felt bad for even coming here at all.

Chloe waited patiently while Linda fed her fussing baby, letting the mom do what she needed to do. Eventually the fussing died down and Linda came over and sat down at the table, a sleeping baby Charlie rocking gently in her arms.

"Is everything alright?"

"I took some time off of work to get my head straight," Chloe explained. No doubt Linda was wondering what she was doing here out of the blue on a weekday afternoon. "I'm sorry I didn't come by to see you sooner. I always meant to, I just...with everything that happened...I - "

"I understand," Linda said with a smile, resting one hand on top of hers and giving a squeeze. It was like she could read Chloe's mind. "You're always welcome here Chloe."

Just like that, everything was fine.

Chloe let out a relieved breath, feeling the tension escape her body as she was finally able to relax. "Thanks Linda."

"No, I mean it," Linda emphasized, some of the sweetness in her voice now laced with a bit of desperation. "Come over anytime. I could really use the help."

"Aren't Maze and Amenadiel around?"

"Oh, they're around," Linda sighed, long and put out. If possible, she looked even more tired. "That doesn't mean they have the first clue about how to raise a baby. What am I saying? Neither do I. Especially not an angel baby. This is all one big cosmic mess and I'm in the center of it."

"You're doing great," Chloe assured, peering down at baby Charlie's chubby slumbering face.

"Did you know that this is the first time he's slept in twenty-seven hours?" Linda asked with a manic edge, her eyes a little too wide. "Yeah. _Twenty-seven hours_ of non-stop crying baby."

"I do not miss those days," Chloe sympathized. "Trixie would never go to sleep. Dan and I would have to take turns watching her crib all night so that if she started to cry we would be right there to soothe her."

"That actually worked?"

"For a bit. Then we realized that Trixie had caught on and was crying on purpose just so she would be held. Then that led to more crying when we stopped coming in her room altogether, so she wouldn't sleep and she was upset that we weren't there to coddle her."

"No coddling, gotcha," Linda noted, but one look at Charlie's face had her crumbling. "Oh, I can't do that! Look at him."

Charlie was adorable, with full cheeks, wispy black hair, and soft dark skin. Chloe could not blame Linda for giving in. Just looking at Charlie had Chloe nostalgic and yearning for the days when Trixie was small like that.

Did Chloe want more children? Before, Chloe would have said that Trixie was more than enough to satisfy her as a mother. And then she thought...if she had kids with Lucifer, what would they look like? Would they have his dark curling hair, or her pin-straight blonde? Would they have her green eyes or his deep brown? Would they have wings? Would they have red, scarred skin?

Chloe looked away. She had to stop before she hurt herself any further.

Then, the front door opened and Maze and Amenadiel came walking in. They carried grocery bags in their hands - well, more like Amenadiel carried ten bags in both hands while Maze watched him struggle.

"Decker, surprise seeing you here," Maze said as she entered the kitchen, her gaze less than friendly.

They still had yet to resolve the whole 'Chloe lying to Maze about Trixie' incident, and Chloe knew that Maze was more hurt than she was letting on. She was hurt enough to move out suddenly, and hurt enough to stand guard at the kitchen counter, staring at her like a hawk would prey. It was clear that Maze didn't trust her, even after all she did to help get Charlie back from the crazy demons who had kidnapped him. Chloe tried not to be too hurt about that, and let the insult roll off her back.

Amenadiel lumbered into the kitchen, oblivious to the staring match between the two women, and dropped all the groceries down on the counter with an almighty bang. Linda flinched and worked overtime to continue her rocking. It was too late, however. Charlie was already wriggling in his swaddle.

"How is my son?" Amenadiel asked, walking over and scooping Charlie up. He looked upon his son with so much awe and pride.

"_Our_ son just went to sleep so if you could please not - " Charlie whimpered, then let out an ear-piercing yell. Linda deadpanned, " - wake him."

Chloe swore she saw the last bit of light run out of Linda's eyes.

"That creature can scream louder than some of the meanest souls in Hell," Maze said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Impressive."

"Mazikeen," Amenadiel shot Maze a withering look, to which Maze only rolled her eyes. "His constant distress is concerning, though I am willing to believe they are just growing pains."

Chloe watched as Amenadiel loosened the swaddle and rubbed a hand across Charlie's back. This seemed to soothe the baby, his cries lessening. Confused, Chloe looked to Linda for some kind of explanation.

"We're still waiting for the wings to come in."

"Then, I can teach him how to hunt," Maze said, a feral grin in place.

"Perhaps we can start with smaller things, like talking and walking, before giving the baby throwing knives," Linda placated, her tone suggesting that this was a conversation she had had with Maze many times.

"Whatever," Maze grumbled as she exited the kitchen and threw herself onto the couch, scowling.

"It's only been a month," Chloe said, looking at the wingless baby and trying to imagine where the feathers would sprout from first. "When are wings supposed to come in?"

"Charlie's entire existence is unprecedented," Amenadiel said, as if that explained anything at all. "Anything could happen at any time."

"A comforting thought," Linda commented, clearly unnerved.

"What do you mean? You don't remember when you got your wings?" Chloe asked, confused.

"Angels are born fully-realized. One minute we are dust in the cosmos, the next minute we are formed completely from our Father's will," Amenadiel said, as if such things were normal.

"That explains so much," Linda commented, looking from Amenadiel up to the ceiling, but Chloe presumed Linda was really cursing God.

Chloe agreed; that really did explain a lot about them. No wonder Lucifer always acted like a child. He never had the chance to get it out of his system.

Amenadiel did not pick up on Linda's snarky undertone, continuing to coo at Charlie, whose cries had lessened to whimpers. Charlie seemed to like being bounced in his father's arms, his little body burrowing down close to Amenadiel's chest. Amenadiel was such a good father, and Chloe was slightly envious of the way Linda melted around the two of them, her exhaustion fading to contentment as she watched them.

Satisfied that the house was not going to burn down if she left Amenadiel with Charlie, Linda pulled on Chloe's sleeve.

"Come on," Linda beckoned further into the house, away from Maze and Amenadiel and the baby. "Let's go chat."

Maze shot them a curious look as they headed down the hall, but did not rise to follow. Her focus was trained on Amenadiel and Charlie (even though Maze would never admit it, she, too, had fallen in love with the tiny half-angel baby - albeit in her own aggressive way). So, Chloe was left alone with Linda in her office.

Linda's office was similar to the one at her practice: a neutral colored room with a large sofa against one wall, a chair across from that, and a desk backed up against the opposite side with lines of bookshelves against the walls. The only difference was that Linda had lots of personal touches in this office, making it more her own space instead of sparse as to not distract her patients. It was also not a disaster, unlike the rest of her house.

Chloe wandered over to the bookshelf nearest her. There was a vase full of flowers, a couple knick knacks from trips and conferences, and a few photos. One was old, a young Linda clad in robe and gown, holding her medical school degree in her hands while her parents smiled proudly in the background. The others were more recent: one of she, Chloe, Ella, and Maze from girl's night, one of her in the hospital holding a newborn baby Charlie, and one of just Charlie sleeping peacefully - a documentation of perhaps the only time that had happened.

There were so many happy memories here. Chloe felt like she didn't belong.

"I didn't come for a session," she said, still staring at the photos.

"But you want to talk."

Chloe turned to see that Linda was seated in the chair, one leg crossed over the other. She looked patiently at Chloe, waiting to see what she would do. That was part of what Chloe both loved and hated about Linda: she could always tell what was wrong.

"I, ah, actually might have found someone else to talk to."

Linda was shocked, her eyebrows jumping to her hairline. "Really?"

Maybe it would be better to sit for this, Chloe thought to herself. She walked over and sat down on the couch across from Linda, leaning over and placing her elbows on her knees. From this position, Chloe could easily look at the ground instead of at Linda's face.

"His name is Michael. I literally ran into him on the street, and we got coffee, and there's just something about him. I can't describe it..." Chloe trailed off, trying to make sense of her strange morning. It still felt like a dream, like it had happened to someone else. "I don't know, this may be crazy but, it's just _easier_ to talk to someone who has no idea what's going on. I feel like..."

"You don't feel as judged," Linda cut to the heart of the matter, and Chloe immediately felt guilty. Linda was exactly right. Talking to Michael, she could distance herself from the people who were also close to Lucifer. She could avoid all the unwanted sympathy, the looks, the 'everything is going to be okay' repeated again and again and again. Did that make her a bad person? "It's alright, Chloe. I'm not upset. I just hope you know that I would never judge you, for anything."

Chloe looked up. Linda's warm expression hadn't changed, and there wasn't a hint of pity behind those glasses.

"I know that. I promise, I do."

"Good," Linda said, squaring her shoulders, therapist-face on. "If this Michael is someone you feel like you can open up to, then I'm glad you have him. But, if you ever want to, I'm here for you as well."

"Dan offered the same thing," Chloe laughed wetly, sniffling a little. How did she end up so lucky to have so many people in her corner?

"We care about you Chloe. You don't have to go through this alone," Linda reassured. "I know Amenadiel has been having a hard time with Lucifer's leaving. Maze is angry as well, but there's something more to it that she isn't ready to share."

"Abandonment," Chloe replied automatically. Linda gave her a strange look, and Chloe shrugged her shoulders. "I can recognize it."

"You feel like Lucifer's abandoned you," Linda connected the dots, her expression becoming softer.

Chloe nodded. Maybe she wasn't abandoned in the same way as Maze, but it still stung the same.

"I know why he left, why he had to, and part of me is glad he did...to stop the demons...but - " Chloe cut herself off, trying to regain as much composure as she could. It was hard to speak when there were sobs trapped in her throat. "But I told him how I felt...that I was sorry for how I acted before, th-that I loved him...and he still didn't try to find another way. He just flew away."

_And he made it look so easy,_ Chloe didn't say but her mind continued. _I begged him, pleaded with him with tears in my eyes. He knew how hard it was for me to say. He didn't care. He couldn't even look me in the eye when took off. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew - _

"Oh Chloe, he loves you, you know," Linda said, leaning forward so that she could put a hand on Chloe's knee, the point of contact grounding Chloe in the moment, keeping her from spiraling down into her worst thoughts. "In all the years I've seen Lucifer, we have talked through some pretty unbelievable things, but the one constant is how he feels about you. He would not have left unless it was the only way, and I'm sure he's counting the seconds until he can find a way back."

Chloe knew that Linda was right. She had a whole partnership of Lucifer doing stupid, dangerous, self-sacrificing things to prove it.

If only she could make herself believe it.


	5. Devil, Devil

_Devil, devil_

_Bones of metal, metal_

_You torture saints with a single glance_

_Make them think they ever stood a chance_

_\- Devil, Devil by Milck, Episode 2x09_

* * *

Devil, Devil

Despite his lavish taste, Lucifer's palace was, in all actuality, underwhelming.

At least from the outside: an obsidian exterior as rough as the columns of surrounding cells. The only thing that made it stand out from the rest was that it lied on the very outermost ring of cells, the original line that had stood since Abel first stumbled his way inside, and that it stood taller so that Lucifer could overlook his domain. The way inside was simple: climb the steep, rocky path to the front door and knock.

There were other access points, of course. Underground tunnels and caverns that the demons and even Lucifer himself had worn away over time. Dromos and Squee were taking one of those paths now, trying not to bump their heads against the jagged ceiling of the narrow passage. They could not take the direct entrance, not without facing certain destruction. Lucifer had made it perfectly clear that they were not welcome to show their faces in his palace for at least another eternity. Hence the need for such deception.

One would think that the further one dug underneath the ground, the colder it would get. That would be an incorrect assumption, because the further one dug into Hell, the hotter it got. The temperature inside the tunnel was sweltering, both Dromos and Squee panting and covered in sweat, the heat unbearable even to their tougher hides. They navigated through the dark, trusting their gut instincts and years of following this same path.

After what felt like years of stumbling around in the dark, the tunnel widened, and they knew they were close. The roughness of the tunnel smoothed and the ceilings grew higher so that they did not have to hunch their sore backs. Breaking out of their chains and sneaking off had taken enough out of Dromos and Squee, their physical forms taxed and weary. However, if they could make it inside, all the trouble would be worth it.

The tunnel ended abruptly and without warning, giving Dromos a face-full of wall and Squee a face-full of Dromos. The demons cursed as they stumbled, Dromos rubbing his nose as he shoved Squee away.

A push on the wall and Dromos and Squee emerged from behind a painting of some vague celestial event, the brass-framed monstrosity swinging open with a creak to let them out.

True, the outside was unassuming, dismal, oppressive. The inside, however, was greed and gluttony incarnate. Obsidian walls, lofty ceilings, and floors were polished to a glassy shine and lined with intricate, gold-gilded pillars. Candelabras flickered dimly every few feet, casting an eerie glow down the halls and across assorted lavish pieces of furniture from different eras. Across the way, a floor-to-ceiling window gave a view of Hell beyond the cells: the cracked desert wasteland that went on for miles and miles until the ground cracked and magma burned out from underneath, swirling red and menacing. Even from here, Dromos and Squee could feel the heat.

None of the demons knew how big the palace really was or how many rooms there were. Most never stayed long enough to find their way past the throne room, if they were lucky enough not to be smote at the front door. But Dromos and Squee were not ordinary demons. No, once they were friendly enough with their king that they had enjoyed the luxuries of his palace frequently. Not many demons could say they had the honor. Even now, the sting of betrayal burning through Dromos and Squee upon looking at all their king wanted to abandon, they could not stop that puff of pride.

While Dromos was busy looking around, gathering his bearings, Squee had taken it upon himself to survey the treasures that surrounded them. The closest exquisite item was a Ming vase on a black marble pedestal. While most would admire it and move on, Squee looked like he wanted to take it with them.

"Oi!" Dromos snapped, and Squee at least had the decency to look embarrassed "This is not the time to mess around!"

"It's not like he's gonna miss it," Squee grumbled but left the vase alone.

Dromos tried not to strangle his partner. He jerked his head down the opposite hall. "This way."

They wove their way through many different rooms: sitting rooms, bedrooms, music rooms, bathing rooms, treasure rooms, torture rooms, BDSM rooms, so many rooms that were empty and waiting to be filled. The closer they got to the center of the palace, the more and more lived-in the rooms felt. Lucifer only used a handful regularly, and Dromos knew just the place he needed.

The room in question was a parlor-type area - open with four entry points so that guests could come mill about from any direction, or, more commonly, so Lucifer could access the only room with liquor as easily as possible. There was a bar in this room, a whole wall dedicated to the most exotic - and even extinct - types of liquor and wine that faced the rest of the room and a large window covered in black velvet curtains. However, the bar was mostly for show so that those who chose to lounge on any of the darkly-upholstered furniture could admire such a vast collection. After all, Lucifer did love his Earthly things.

"There."

Dromos pointed at the small side table, upon which rested an assortment of crystal decanters. There was wine and water, of course, but Lucifer was always particular to whiskey. The amber bottle had the largest dent taken out of it, a small amount left sloshing around the bottom. It would do perfectly.

Dromos pulled out his own piece of crystal: the vial, to be exact. He uncapped it, tossed the crystal stopper on the floor, and poured the clear liquid into the whisky, stirring the decanter for good measure. There was no magical energy exuded upon the mixing, no cloud of noxious gas or sign that the liquid had been successfully integrated. It simply looked like whiskey.

He would have to go off of good faith, a novel concept for a demon, though Dromos supposed that help from above would rely on such a thing.

From down the hall, the first faint echoes of footsteps could be heard, and they were getting louder.

"It's him!" Squee said, his voice a low, panicked whisper.

"Hide you idiot!" Dromos commanded.

Deft fingers fumbled to place the decanter back among the other bottles, exactly where it sat before. From the idle eye, it looked as if nothing had even been touched, the room undisturbed. Then, Dromos went to hide next to Squee behind a set of black velvet curtains.

Footsteps stormed into the room not a moment later, the king in red soled shoes racing straight towards the liquor table.

Lucifer never smiled these days. Not that he smiled much before, but at least, in the good old days, he was able to be cajoled into some sinister laughs and sneers after a good torture or a few drinks. Now, he just sat on his throne and scowled, casting horrible forecasts and misery upon the demons. From the looks of it, his scowling didn't stop while he was on throne duty; he looked just as malcontent and thunderous now, slowly pouring his whiskey so he could continue furiously pacing the room.

That was all Lucifer did these days, according to those in his innermost circle of demons, which dwindled by the second. He scowled, he paced, and he plotted - mostly ways to escape Hell without leaving the demons to wreak endless havoc. Such a solution did not exist, but that did not stop their king. And so, the resentment inside Dromos and Squee festered further.

Dromos' eyes were glued on Lucifer, peering as far as he dared without getting caught by his king. He watched with fervent anticipation as Lucifer raised the glass of cursed whiskey to his lips, the amber liquid so close.

And then it was gone, swallowed whole, without so much as a wince from Lucifer's end.

Dromos let himself bask in satisfaction. Now, his king would be forever tied to Hell, whether he wanted it or not. There would be no more plotting, no more scheming or dreaming of the Earth above. Lucifer would remain in Hell with the demons as he should, forever until eternity, and there would be nothing he could do to stop Dromos from leading Squee and all the other demons up to Earth and razing all he held dear. Yes, it was all going -

Lucifer dropped his glass, the crystal shattering into thousands of little pieces upon contact with the unforgiving obsidian. He stared at his hand, now shaking, with wide dark eyes. There was something akin to horror there, something like fear, and the King of Hell blanched as he, too, fell down.

_\- perfectly._

Lucifer clutched at his chest as he fell, his skin rippling from pale to red as though he were burning. Hellfire licked at his jaw, and Dromos could tell that the king was fighting to take control of whatever was going on inside of him. He shook and grit his teeth, trying not to yell, to show weakness, though it looked as though whatever it was bound to hurt. Some his movements were jerky, like Lucifer was seizing, while other moments called for bending over and grunting as though he could vomit.

_What was inside that potion?_ Dromos cursed himself for not asking for questions, for assuming. For all he knew, Lucifer was dying and -

And staring right at him.

"_You,_" Lucifer choked out through the pain, raising one trembling finger to point directly at Dromos. Those blood red eyes promised pain and vengeance, so much hatred seeping through that it poisoned the air.

Whatever Lucifer was going to say next was lost, as he was swallowed by a flash of bright, white light.

When the light faded, there was nothing that remained that hinted that the King of Hell was even there save for the shattered glass. The room was eerily quiet, and Dromos could hear his rage pounding through his entire body. It was a living, visceral thing this anger - the extremity of his offense at being used, at being played for the fool.

He had always been loyal to Hell, and this was how he was repaid? _Again?!_

It didn't matter how loudly Dromos screamed.

Lucifer was gone.


	6. Pack of Lies

_Well I was there and I saw what you did,_

_I saw it with my own two eyes._

_So you can wipe off that grin,_

_I know where you've been._

_It's all been a pack of lies._

_\- In the Air Tonight (cover) by Natalie Taylor, Episode 2x10_

* * *

Pack of Lies

Maybe Chloe was desperate, maybe she was a hopeless believer in happily ever afters, but either way, she was an idiot for thinking that Michael was serious about continuing their coffee dates.

It was a one time thing. Michael was being kind and making up for running into a stranger. Chloe was the idiot who thought it meant something it didn't. She was the one who had to get over that, who had to sit there in the coffee shop like the fool she was at a table meant for two and lick her metaphorical wounds.

But he had left his wallet behind.

Chloe bit her lip, fighting between the urge to respect Michael's privacy in the hopes he would eventually show up and to open his wallet and give him a call.

In the end, the Good Samaritan in Chloe won.

She was being juvenile, holding Michael's wallet hostage in the hopes that she could use that as leverage to secure another coffee date. She was a grown woman, not some love-sick teenager. Not that she was love-sick. Not for Michael, at least. She just desperately wanted affirmation from someone, someone who didn't know all the crazy shit that had happened. She just wanted to know that she had it in her to be normal, to move on, to have a life. Michael was that someone, or he could be, but he wasn't going to be unless Chloe let things happen normally. He wasn't going to think she was normal if she founded their friendship on her holding onto his stuff.

The strange thing was, there was no ID in the wallet.

It was an empty folder of brown leather. No credit cards, gift cards, receipts, money, nothing. Completely empty. It even smelled new, the leather barely broken on the spine. Chloe may as well have been the first person to crack it open.

Confused, Chloe went up to the bar.

"Excuse me," Chloe said, drawing the attention of the young woman in a green apron. She brushed her sticky fingers off and gave Chloe a smile that screamed for someone to put her out of her misery. She didn't look familiar, but if Michael was a regular, it was worth a shot. "Sorry to bother you. The man who was in here with me yesterday left his wallet, but there doesn't seem to be any ID. Do you know when he usually comes by? He's tall, blonde, really fit, named Michael."

"Doesn't ring any bells." The barista gave an apologetic shrug. "I hope you find him though."

"Yeah, me too."

Chloe went back to her table, dazed. She stared at the wallet as if it were a piece of evidence, willing it to answer all the questions that now swam in her overactive brain. The detective in her reared to the forefront, demanding to start an investigation.

Michael seemed normal. Incredibly normal Too normal. And nice. Too nice. Especially to a complete stranger. Buying said stranger coffee, listening to her problems, inviting her back, all while revealing very little about himself. It was behavior she had seen before in far too many criminals to count. The main question she wanted to know, more than all the others, was why? Why her?

Just as Chloe was considering going to the station to do some digging, the door chimed and in walked Michael wearing the same yellow track suit as yesterday. He looked like a cartoon character, the kind that never changed no matter how many episodes went by. His hair was even tousled the same way, and when his blue eyes found Chloe, they sparkled with something more than just friendliness.

"Chloe," he greeted, his voice smooth and warm like honey. It slid through Chloe's ears and down to her heart. Her response to that voice was pavlovian, her heart beat slowing until her body was completely at ease even though her mind was still whirling with questions. It was such a strange dynamic, and she didn't like it. Not one bit. "I am so glad you came."

He stood in front of her as if anticipating her rising for a hug, but Chloe remained seated. In this small way, she resisted.

"You left your wallet."

She pushed it forward across the table, and Michael looked down at it as if it were foreign to him.

"Oh, would you look at that. I hadn't even noticed," Michael said with a smile, as if losing his entire identity didn't faze him in the slightest. He took his wallet back, his fingers brushing against Chloe's, and she could not suppress the shiver that ran down her spine. "Thank you, Chloe."

"It's empty," she said instead, finding the words easy to say when she was caught in his gaze. It was jarring, how those eyes could strip her down to the core. How had she missed that before? "I looked when I tried to find your ID, which you don't have either. Care to explain?"

"It is a new wallet. I had yet to fill it," he replied easily, sitting primly in his chair. It was like he did not know how to relax, his spine never shifting from ram-rod straight.

"Then how did you pay for those drinks last time? I didn't see you use another."

Chloe didn't know why she kept prodding, why she was desperately trying to destroy a good thing. All she knew was that something was not right with Michael specifically and she needed to know what.

"I come around here often. I am sure the young lady behind the counter recognized my face and knew I was a trustworthy individual."

Chloe was certain that the barista working today was not the same one that was here yesterday, but her memory of the details were fuzzy at best. All she could recall with clarity were the piercing blue of Michael's eyes.

"You know, that's funny, because when I asked she made it seem like no one here had ever seen you before."

Michael frowned, but even that seemed false, his smile still standing as his lips pulled down. It was chilling how unaffected he was. Chloe felt like she was staring down a sociopath. "Now, that's not right. This must be some sort of misunderstanding."

That was the final straw.

"Listen, I don't know what game you're playing at, but I don't want any part of it," Chloe snapped, now fully convinced she was being played. Feelings twisted in the darkest parts of her, betrayal creeping up into her throat. And here she thought she had found someone she could confide in, someone who could sympathize, someone who could understand.

"Chloe..."

Her name on his lips sounded wrong. Too saccharine, too patronizing, like when her mother wanted her to do something as a child but couldn't yell because the cameras were rolling. It was fake and manipulative and Chloe had had enough.

Whatever peace she had felt before, whatever relationship she had started to build with Michael, shattered. Everything about the situation seemed wrong. Everything she missed before: the wallet, the nonchalance, the vagueness of his answers - all red flags she should have picked up on before. Michael was not who he seemed to be. Even now, her mind was fighting her on this, screaming _no, you want to stay, this is a friend_. Why was she still thinking that? Why did she still want to stay even when her skin started to crawl?

She had to get out of there. Now.

"I have to go."

"At least allow me the courtesy of explaining," Michael tried, and for the first time, Chloe saw him lose his grip on that calm, cool exterior. His eyes flashed, something intense taking over as he reached for her wrist. "Please, Chloe, you are making a mistake."

Chloe snatched her wrist away before he could touch her. "No, _t__his_ was a mistake"

She gathered up her jacket and stormed out of the coffee shop, not even bothering to look back.

... _ ...

Linda had been talking non-stop for the past seven minutes.

She was going on about all the boring little details of her day she could recall. Nothing really happened in her day outside of taking care of Charlie. She used to have patients to talk about and discuss; now she had baby vomit and nursery rhymes. The only other human she had had contact with in the past forty-eight hours was Chloe, so she fixated on that visit a lot, not-so-secretly hoping for another, and recounted the events in her office to a very disinterested Amenadiel.

" - she said she felt like she could trust him. And you know Chloe - she never opens up to anyone easily - so if this guy managed it he can't be that bad. I'm thinking maybe he has some sort of psychology degree. Some kind of undercover therapist type deals, if those even exist. Who knows. But I told her that my door was alwasy open, Baby Charlie and all, and - "

"Michael, you said?" Amenadiel asked, now much more interested in what Linda had to say, though she really did not want to know what encouraged it. Usually he just let her stretch, relax, and chatter, content to watch Charlie eat and fuss as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Linda enjoyed those minutes to herself as much as possible (it was so hard to stay quiet for hours and hours on end in the hopes to get a baby to sleep). So, to have Amenadiel interrupt was unexpected, and suspicious.

Linda sat back and waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Yes, that's his name. The guy Chloe is talking to."

"And she just...ran into him on the street? As if by coincidence?"

"Yes."

"And she is sure he is not from the Silver City?"

Ding! Ding! Ding! There it was.

"Amenadiel, there are millions of people in the world with the name Michael. That does not automatically make this man your brother," Linda placated, trying to soothe him so that he would not agitate Charlie.

"There are too many coincidences, Linda," Amenadiel argued, his brow furrowing as he started nervously pacing. That certain did nothing to soothe Charlie, the baby picking up on his father's distress. Charlie was annoyingly intuitive like that, and Linda was starting to believe that his lack of sleep directly correlated with hers. "The timing, the way Chloe - a detective, of all people - trusts him, a complete stranger..."

Linda said, defending her friend. "She is in a rough spot. It's hard to explain what goes through someone's head when they get their heart broken," Linda said, defending her friend. However, she could admit that a lot of this situation was out of the ordinary "I admit it is odd, but Chloe has always had great intuition. It's part of her job. "

"Exactly. Chloe is vulnerable. She's weak. The perfect prey."

Linda did not like the way Amenadiel said _prey_ \- like Chloe wasn't a completely capable, strong, and independent single mother capable of handling herself. _Men_, she scoffed and mentally rolled her eyes. Even a literal angel was not free from male chauvinism. Linda knew that any further dialogue down this route would only add fuel to Amenadiel's fire instead of cool him off. So, Linda had to change tactics.

"Okay, let's say this is _the_ Michael: your brother, the archangel. What is he doing here on Earth and why does he want to talk to Chloe?"

"Oh, I fear that talking is the least of what he wants," Amenadiel said, his tone rumbling as he was allowed to fully jump into the waters of possibility. "Of all the cities of the world, he picks Los Angeles. Of all the humans of the world, he picks Chloe. And of all times to plan a vacation to a place he always professed to despise, he picks now - just a month after Lucifer is called back to Hell. That is no coincidence. Michael is up to something, I can _feel_ it."

"Again I ask, what role does Chloe play in this scenario?"

"I don't know," Amenadiel sighed, staring off into the distance, unblinking, as if the answers would find him there. "Whatever it is, she is not Michael's intended target. Lucifer is who Michael really wants. He has been since the beginning."

Linda did not like the way Amenadiel said _beginning_, but for a completely different reason than _prey_. This time, Amenadiel's face carved out lines that had not been their before, ones that spoke of ancient worry. His eyes went impossibly darker as well, and for once, Linda could see the true expanse of his age. It was jarring, slightly terrifying even, to think that whatever knowledge Amenadiel had been carrying around had been haunting him since the beginning of time.

"So you think Michael came all this way to what? Have a family squabble with Lucifer?"

"The last time someone in our family squabbled, they cracked the Earth's crust so badly that continents were formed," Amenadiel said. Linda wanted to laugh at the utter ridiculousness but she knew that he was telling the truth. Just another tidbit of history to process when she was done. She could only handle one celestial revelation at a time. "Whatever Michael wants will be much worse."

"Okay, now, how do we stop him?"

Surprisingly, Amenadiel laughed.

"There is no stopping Michael."

That was it. Amenadiel did not elaborate. He said nothing more, and he laughed no more as well. The words were sobering, like a dark cloud overhead, and Linda felt her hypothetical situation become a little too real for comfort.

"Everyone can be stopped, even an angel," Linda tried, doing her best to smile and prod, because that was what she did best. She was a fixer. She fixed situations, even ones that scared her more than she cared to admit.

"Not everyone," Amenadiel replied, his voice quiet and soft and sad. "Michael is a warrior, the greatest ever created, and the leader of the armies of the Silver City. His entire purpose is to destroy anything that has been deemed a threat to our Father."

"He hunts down threats…including humans…?"

Amenadiel only nodded once. His eyes were dark and stormy, and Linda realized Amenadiel was scared. And if something could scare Amenadiel, then it was _bad_.

"Just as Lucifer has the ability draw out people's innermost desires and I previously had the ability to stop time, Michael, too, has a gift: complacency. His entire demeanor is meant to soothe, to promote a sense of peace. It is what makes him the best at what he does," Amenadiel said, taking Linda by the shoulders and staring her straight in the eye as if compelling her to understand. "Imagine being the best hunter in the world, only you don't have to stalk your prey, it comes willingly to you."

"Oh my God," Linda said, horrified. Her entire body shuddered at the thought of being targeted by another celestial being. The Goddess of all creation had almost killed her. Linda didn't think she could survive another encounter like that, especially if Michael was as dangerous as Amenadiel made him seem. Then, she realized that she was not the one who was in immediate danger. "I have to tell Chloe. She's been getting coffee with him, talking with him. She thinks he's harmless."

"Linda, don't," Amenadiel caught her by the arm before she could reach the phone, his eyes searching hers, imploring. "Chloe is in more danger if you tell her. If Michael knows that she knows, if she shatters the illusion…" Amenadiel didn't finish that thought. Linda was grateful for it, the possibilities terrifying. "The best way to help her is to find a way to get her away from him without him knowing."

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

"I'm not sure, but - "

"I'm going to help Chloe."

"Linda, I cannot protect you from Michael if you go, and you will not be able to help me protect Charlie." "I know you want to help Chloe. I want to as well. But we have to think of our son. He is just as much a target as Chloe is."

One look at Charlie's innocent squishy face had Linda changing her mind. As much as she wanted to help her friend, her priorities had to be on Charlie, and Charlie could not defend himself if Michael decided to come after him.

"I hate this," Linda grumbled, holding her baby close to her chest.

Amenadiel took both she and Charlie into his arms, keeping them close, as if that could ward away all the dangers of the world. Then, he looked upward and did something he had not done in far too long: he prayed.


	7. Gone Too Far

_Have we gone too far?_

_Can we return w__hen we're torn apart?_

_In the darkness of night_

_In the ashes, I see t__he fading light_

_\- Caught in the Fire by Klergy, Episode 4x7_

* * *

Gone Too Far

Hell had cooked up a storm of monumental proportions, thrown off kilter by the loss of its king.

There was no way a domain could actually know that it had lost its master, but Hell was always a peculiar thing, nearly living in its own right. And, of course, after many millennia of housing Lucifer, it had grown attuned to his every move. When Lucifer had made it clear that he had no intention of ever returning, Hell had revolted as much as the demons. Now, Hell was lamenting Lucifer's loss yet again, matching Dromos' screams with its own rumbling thunder and storms of ash.

Dromos and Squee were not partial to the hellish weather, as they were still inside Lucifer's palace. They had scoured every inch of the place, hoping that Lucifer had managed to fly himself to another room, but no luck. He was well and truly gone. Which was how the two demons found themselves in the throne room, each sharing their despair in different ways. Squee found release in moping (no crying - definitely not crying) while Dromos shouted, threw things, and broke anything he could get his hands on.

There was a crown that sat on a pedestal atop a black velvet pillow, one that had been there since Lucifer first fell. It was crafted in the deepest forges of Hell by the master craftsdemons themselves, imbued with ancient darkness and a penchant to erupt into hellfire. Lucifer had refused to put the damned thing on his head, thinking it too gaudy even for his taste. Dromos took it and threw it against the wall, knocking a few rubies loose. It was the latest casualty in a long line. Dromos had already torn the drapes, the carpet, and shattered a few priceless statues. What good was a crown for a king that was gone?

Then, the doors to the throne room was thrown open with an almighty clang. Both demons stopped their skulking and turned to the intruder.

"YOU!" Dromos roared as soon as he caught sight of the man in what had to be the most obnoxious yellow sweat suit. He may not have been of Hell, but his aura was strong. It was celestial, but something poisonous lingered there as well, something that felt an awful lot like death. The man was cloaked in it.

Squee felt a chill run down his spine. Oh no.

"What have you done!"

Dromos, either unaware or uncaring of what exactly he was facing, charged at the man - not a man, Squee realized, but an angel - with fangs bared and claws ready to rip his throat out. Squee turned away, not at all in the mood to watch blood and guts be spilled so soon after such a devastating loss. No such fight ensued, however, as the angel moved with supernatural speed, dodging Dromos easily and sending him sprawling on his back.

"What have _I_ done?" Michael asked, his tone carefully neutral as he took Dromos by the throat one-handed. He hoisted the demon up in the air just to prove that he could, and cast his vaguely disapproving eyes upon Dromos. "You were supposed to wait for my instructions."

Dromos gnashed his fangs, snapping at Michael. Michael did not even flinch.

"What did you do to our king!" Dromos demanded to know, thrashing to the best of his ability. Anyone or anything else would have tired and lowered Dromos by now, exhausted at the effort of keeping such a powerful demon under control. Not Michael. He kept his hold upon Dromos' neck even tighter.

"You were supposed to wait," Michael repeated, not even a hint of anger in his tone. If anything, that made the angel even scarier, and Squee found himself backing away. "Nothing is ready. So much careful planning, wasted. I can only blame myself for trusting a demon."

Dromos continued to clamor and claw at his captor, but it was no use. It was Dromos who was losing; he could see that now, his movements turning from offensive to defensive. He scratched at Micheal's hands, trying to pry them from his throat, but Michael's skin was as tough as diamonds. It did not break, no matter how hard Dromos' claws dug.

Dromos tried to plead with Squee, but his comrade was frozen in fear, cowering to avoid the same abuse. The more Dromos struggled, the harder Michael held, and while Dromos did not require air to breathe, it felt as though something was burning through his very core, like someone had set a match to his insides. He did not like this feeling at all, and it got worse the longer Michael held, his eyes blazing gold.

And that's when Dromos realized. Grace. Michael was using Grace against him, burning through Dromos' essence with the purity of Heaven.

The audacity! Dromos screamed insults and curses so foul that even the worst sinners in Hell would blush as the burning reached peak inferno, as his skin boiled off and his inside evaporated from the sheer nuclear heat of pure Grace. It was gruesome and violent, the perfect death for a demon if it was not so damn painful.

With a final yowl, Dromos' very existence was wiped from creation, his body turning to a fine grey dust in Michael's hand.

"Tell me, demon, Hell can only be ruled by an angel, is that right?" Michael asked Squee, letting the dust that was formerly Dromos sift through his fingers and fall to the cold, unforgiving ground.

"Y-yes, only an angel," Squee managed to say, still keeping his distance lest Michael lash out and turn him to dust as well.

Michael studied the dust, flicking the last bits of it away and stepping over the pile to reach the throne. It was not as big as the one that sat in the center of Hell; that spire of stone was meant to oversee the demons as a show of power, establishing angelic dominion over the creatures of Hell. This throne was smaller but no less intimidating - cut from the same polished obsidian with a high back, wide arms, and austere angles. Michael reached out and touched it, the barest glance of the tips of his fingers across smooth stone.

Squee wondered what this angel was thinking, what he felt when he touched the throne. A creature of such purity and divinity, and yet, drawn to the darkness as if he could not help himself. It was a terrifying thing to behold. What was more terrifying was the intensity at which the angel stared at the throne, as if he could will it to dust like he had Dromos.

"You serve me now. You and all the hoards of Hell," Michael said idly, still standing facing the throne, not sitting. "My hunt has ended too early, but I shall complete it all the same. The armies of Heaven would not come to my aid, but the armies of Hell shall do quite nicely for what I have planned."

"And what, exactly, is that plan? If you don't mind me asking..." Squee dared to say, hoping those world would not be his last.

Michael turned to Squee and smiled, his first show of emotion, but it was an empty thing. Squee would have preferred the angel stay stoic.

"You are demons. You wreak chaos, do you not?" Michael asked, and Squee nodded, curious as to where this was going. "Then I command you to do just that. Go to Earth. Wreak havoc on those closest to Lucifer. Make sure nothing remains."

"Yes, my king."

Squee bowed so deeply that his hog nose brushed the ground. Maybe working for this angel wouldn't be so bad. Only a few minutes in power and he was already giving the demons more freedoms than Lucifer ever had. Squee liked destroying things. This was going to be fun.

"Good. Now, go tell the others."

Michael turned back around and that was how Squee left him: looking at the throne as if he wanted to raze it all to the ground.

... _ ...

When Lucifer came to, he knew he was no longer in Hell.

No, the brightness that assaulted his eyes as soon as he opened them was enough to tip him off that he was no longer among the dark and dreary corridors of Hell. The brightness was nearly painful, causing his already aching head to throb.

Was he back in the Silver City? Was the light invading his retinas the holy essence of his _beloved_ Father? If it was, Lucifer would sooner spit at Him than thank Him for prying him away from Hell in such a violent and sudden manner. Lucifer doubted he was in the Silver City, though. If he were, his siblings would not wait this long to poke and prod at him, to torment him. Besides, the ground beneath him was solid and rough, not soft and perfectly cool as everything was up there.

Concrete, his mind supplied. He was lying on concrete. There was definitely no concrete in Heaven.

Lucifer's mouth tasted like he had swallowed lead, bitter and heavy. His tongue was dry, but he could still feel the lingering drops of whiskey, could taste them as he forced down a swallow. Everything was painful. Each of his joints screamed in protest as he climbed his way to his feet, as feeble and unsteady as a newborn foal.

_What the Hell had happened? _

Dromos and Squee happened, that much was for certain. Whatever was going on was their doing, though exactly what that was remained a mystery. Strangely enough, the demons had seemed just as shocked as Lucifer felt, like they were not expecting what had happened to happen. Like they did not mean to send their king to this dingy, putrid-smelling alleyway on Earth.

Wait...Lucifer knew this alleyway. He knew the sounds and the smells and the shops across the street. It was all so familiar, and Lucifer would know this city - his true home - like the back of his hand.

Lucifer was in Los Angeles.

The first feeling was complete and utter joy. Lucifer's body lit up like the sun itself, flooded with gratitude that he was back. He was _home_. He had the urge to kiss the grime-coated ground and actually thank those no-good demons for sending him here.

Once the reality of the situation set in, his second emotion was fear.

This was bad. Oh, this was very, very bad. He was on Earth while the demons in Hell were running amok without a master. Lucifer had gone back to rule Hell for a very specific, incredibly important reason: to protect the Earth - mainly the few humans he cared for - from demonic dominion. Without him, said demons would start to revolt; they would break the rules. No one would be safe, and he would not stand for that.

As much as he wanted to stay, as much as his heart ached, he had to go.

Unsheathing his wings, which were just as sore as the rest of him, Lucifer closed his eyes and focused on flying downward through the concrete, deep into the mantle below. It was an easy trip, one he had made hundreds of times before, one he could do in his sleep. Once he got back, he would torture the demons responsible and treat himself to a nice bath afterwards. Perfect.

However, Lucifer opened his eyes, and instead of the shadowy landscape of Hell, he remained in the alley.

Strange.

Lucifer knelt down, placed a hand on the concrete, and closed his eyes again. He poured all of his power into searching out a path below, any route that would open back down to Hell. For the first time since he fell, he found none. The gates to Hell were closed to him, just as the gates to the Silver City had been for thousands of years.

He snatched his hand back as if burned.

This...this was impossible. He was the _Devil_, for Dad's sake! He ruled Hell! And now it was closed to him? What kind of sick cosmic joke was this?

Lucifer needed answers, and he needed them now. The longer he stayed away from Hell, the more he risked an uprising. Perhaps Amenadiel could be of some use. He always seemed to know all sorts of obscure information. Sure, Amenadiel had a baby to look after, but Lucifer's problem was far more important.

One step out onto the street and Lucifer realized just how sticky his situation was.

This particular alley, as Lucifer so astutely recognized but quickly forgot, was just around the corner from the Los Angeles precinct. And judging by the sun in the sky, it was roughly the end of the work day, which meant that all of his favorite faces would soon be filing out. He could already see a few of the rookie officers making their way down the street towards the parking garage, chatting, smiling. Like they didn't miss Lucifer at all. How rude!

How long had he been gone? Time was so hard to tell from down in Hell but he still recognized the officers and no one had any new wrinkles or geriatric features. They would certainly recognize him if they spotted him, and then they'd ask questions, and that...that would be very bad for someone trying to keep a low profile. Very, very bad indeed.

Daniel was the first face Lucifer truly recognized, his unfortunate mug coming into view as he loitered at the bottom of the steps of the precinct. He stuck his hands in his pockets and cocked his head upward, looking nonchalantly around like a real douche. Not that he meant to; Lucifer knew that Daniel couldn't help his douchey instincts. That begged the question: who was he waiting for? It wasn't like the man had friends.

Maybe Daniel could help shed some light on this situation. Maybe he knew something that was going on top-side, something that could have drawn Lucifer here, something that would make the demons keen on kicking him out of Hell. Something like civil unrest or the sky bursting into flames. It wasn't Lucifer's best idea, but it was worth a shot. Besides, it wasn't like Daniel would mind a little interruption. Clearly he wasn't doing anything imp-

_Detective._

For a moment, Lucifer's heart stopped. He forgot how to breath. Because there she was: Chloe Decker, his Detective, a vision in denim and sensible brown shoes and her hair pulled up like it always was. She smiled and said hello to the officers she passed, but even from this far away, Lucifer could tell that something was wrong. The corners of her mouth were pinched, her eyes looked a little too red-rimmed, and she seemed distracted.

And she was going the wrong way, into the precinct when she should have been exiting. She stopped to talk to Dan, a quick exchange of words on the steps before they went their separate ways. Lucifer assumed the meeting had something to do with the spawn, as he had witnessed such exchanges before. That still did not explain her going against the flow.

Did she not go into work today? How long had that been happening? Was that the reason she looked so distressed? Did someone do that to her? Who was it so Lucifer could rip the offending maggot limb from limb.

Lucifer wanted to follow her, wanted to hold her and tell her whatever was wrong would be okay. But he could not do that. He could not be so cruel to her, not again. To show up only to leave again...even that was too torturous a punishment for the Devil to inflict, and Chloe deserved nothing but good things.

As much as it pained him, he had to go. He had to leave before -

_\- Michael?_

At first, Lucifer did not believe his eyes. Had he hit his head on the way up? It had been so long since he had seen his brother, his twin, but there was no mistaking it. That was Michael: tall and broad shouldered with golden hair and blue eyes that were the envy of the Silver City, clad in what had to be the world's ugliest yellow track suit. Despite the eyesore, he was still beautiful. So beautiful, all the angels had lauded, so pure. Only Lucifer could ever see through him.

All that beauty was designed to hide a monster.

Phantom pains millennia old ached at Lucifer's throat now. He reached to touch them as he tracked Michael's movements...towards the precinct?

Strange enough that Michael was on Earth at all, but to head towards a police precinct...? That made even less sense. Lucifer knew enough about Michael to know that some things never changed, and that there was no way Michael was going to heed the words of human law enforcement, not when Michael thought himself the embodiment of God's law.

It was not until Lucifer followed Michael's gaze to find it fixed on Chloe's back, watched Michael trace her exact steps as he wound his way to the front of the precinct, that his stomach began to sink.

A light bulb went off inside Lucifer's head - a terrible, horrible explanation for his current insanity. Lucifer blanched as it all clicked into place, and his desire to remain unnoticed vanished.

Lucifer followed after Michael, praying that he was not too late.


	8. In the Shadows

_Your strength is in your weakness_

_There's fire in your blood_

_Hanging from that hope_

_But everybody knows_

_There's something in the shadows_

_\- In the Shadows by Amy Stroup, Episode 3x09_

* * *

In the Shadows

Chloe sat at her desk, trying to distract herself with the pile of cases she had let build up, but all she did was manage to read the same three lines over and over again. It was hard to focus when the seat across from her was empty, when there was a deafening lack of lewd commentary, when the partner who promised to be there for her was gone.

Maybe Dan was right. Maybe she should take some time off, more than a single afternoon. Maybe she should find help, talk to a reliable source instead of lying frauds she met at coffee shops that wore stupid yellow track suits.

"Mommy, can I get a snack from the vending machine?" Trixie asked, wearing her widest, most pitiful set of puppy dog eyes.

"Sure monkey," Chloe said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a couple of dollars. "No sticky buns. You'll rot your teeth."

Trixie took the cash and skipped down the hall, a mischievous grin on her face that let Chloe know that yes, her daughter was about to buy her weight in sticky buns, cavities be damned. Any other day and Chloe would have stopped her, but Trixie had also lost a friend when Lucifer left. They were both hurting. So if Trixie wanted a sticky bun, Chloe would let it slide...this time.

Now, back to this case. It should have been open and shut. All the evidence was pointing toward the gardener murdering his malcontent employer. And yet, no one had managed to get the man in for an interview. Chloe scoffed and rolled her eyes. Could anyone get anything done without her around? God help the department if she did take a vacation.

She reached for her phone, ready to make heads roll.

"Hello Miss Decker. So sorry to disturb you at your place of work, but we never did get to finish our conversation."

Chloe paused in her tracks. There was one voice she had hoped never to hear again.

She looked up to see Michael in all his glory, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking wholly innocent which Chloe knew to be a ruse. There was nothing innocent about this man. How the hell had he even found her out of all the precincts in LA? Had he been following her? Stalking her?

"I have nothing else to say to you," Chloe spat, ready to dial a whole different, three-digit number. "Now get the hell out of my precinct before I have you arrested for trespassing."

"Are you upset because I lied to you?" Michael asked, smiling that wide, empty smile that sent shivers down her spine. "You must understand, most humans don't believe me when I tell them who I am. Most humans these days are disturbingly without faith. But you...you are different. I see that now."

The other end of the line picked up, public safety droning out their usual greeting.

"Hey, can I get someone down here? There's a crazy bastard blocking my desk."

Michael's smile widened, amused. "Such spirit. No wonder my brother is so obsessed with you."

Chloe slammed the phone down harder than intended. Michael's words caught her off guard. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest at the mention of -

"What would you know about me and Lucifer?"

"Oh, Chloe, that is precisely why I came. That is the whole purpose: to learn about the woman who managed to tame the beast," Michael said, head cocked to the side, something dark and insatiable growing in eyes. "What I would not give to know your secrets...to feel what he feels..."

Chloe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Simultaneously, she wanted to Lucifer to come rescue her and cursed his name for getting her into this situation. How silly she was to think that she was free from danger with Lucifer's departure. How foolish he was to believe it as well.

Thankfully, it did not take long for reinforcements to show up. A larger man with a pudgy face and apathetic expression approached her desk, eyeing Michael with vague annoyance.

"You called for security, Detective Decker?"

"Yeah. Get him out of my sight."

The officer sighed and gestured for Michael to turn around. "Hands behind your back."

"Officer, is this really necessary?"

"I said, hands behind your back."

Michael obeyed, crossing his wrists for the officer to cuff. He did not so much as flinch as the cold metal bit into his wrists. Chloe wondered if he could feel the sting or if he were as invulnerable to mortal pain as Lucifer. She wondered if he could simply pull his wrists forward and break the metal with celestial strength, if he could pick the guard up by the lapels and throw him across the room and through the window as easily as she had once seen Lucifer do.

The whole precinct was looking at the scene now, trying to figure out what drama Chloe was starring in now. Everyone was whispering, watching. Chloe wondered just how long Michael's patience would last before he snapped.

"Well done, splendid job, really. You do such good work for this department, for this city. All of you, men and women, keeping the mortals around you safe and protected. You should be proud of what you've done," Michael said, voice loud enough to carry through the room, each and every onlooking officer paying him the utmost attention. He smiled to the growing crowd, that same serene smile that set Chloe on edge, and everyone smiled back. Chloe could feel the niggling voice in the back of her head that was not her own whispering to her, encouraging her to feel pride, to feel peace, to submit. "Why don't you give yourselves a round of applause, eh?"

Chloe watched in horror as the entire precinct erupted into applause, whistles and hoots and hollers following. Michael raised his hands to calm the crowd, returning to the cuffs that had previously been on his wrists to the security officer. He clapped the man on the shoulder as he joined the crowd, all forgiven.

What the hell was going on?

"This city is safe because of you brave men and women. In fact, the city is so safe that there is no crime today. So you all can go home," Michael said, which may have been one lie too far, because the crowd of officers did hesitate in that command. But only for a moment. "Truly, there is no crime to fight today. The city is at peace. So relax, take the day off. You've earned it. You've deserved it. This is your reward for all your hard work. Do not spoil your reward."

The officers nodded in agreement. Chloe could see them believing what Michael said, taking his words to heart as they grabbed their coats, happy to take their leave and bask in a job well done. Coworkers patted Chloe on the back, wished her well and said that they would see her tomorrow. A few even invited her to come with them. No matter how hard she tugged on the sleeves of their jackets or asked them to stay, they fixed her with confused looks, like they could not believe that she wanted to stay, before heading up the stairs and out the door.

Then, when there was no one left but she and Michael, Chloe snapped.

"What did you do to them?"

"It is not my fault that people want to listen to me, Chloe. You used to listen to me too. But now...it is like you are immune to my words. Why is that?" Michael said, fingers outstretched to touch Chloe's cheek.

She flinched back, hand on her firearm.

"Stay away from me or I swear to God - "

"Swear to my father? That won't do you any good. You see, he is on my side."

And he was, wasn't he? This was Michael the Archangel. What chance did she, a regular human, have of fighting him off on her own? He was toying with her, had been this whole time. Chloe knew that now, but she still did not know his game. The only thing she did know what that it had to do with Lucifer. Which was just her luck that he would not be here, the one time she needed him more than ever.

"Whatever you're playing at, whatever you want with Lucifer, you're not going to get it. Okay? He's not here. He went to Hell and he's not coming back."

"That is where you are wrong," Michael said, and of course the first real emotion Chloe ever saw him wear was manic glee. "Lucifer is here. I can feel him. And he is close."

Chloe's heart stopped, her throat constricted. Lucifer wasn't here. He couldn't be. Not without telling her first, not without seeing her, not after everything they'd been through.

"You're lying."

Michael smiled wider, showing a little too much tooth to be friendly. "I may not know much, but I know one thing: he would do anything for you. Anything at all. Which is why he will come for you now. Which is why he will die for you if he must."

Chloe looked at Michael, really looked at him. All the anger, all the venom barely hidden behind cruel, empty smiles. Suddenly it made so much sense. So much terrible, horrible sense.

"You're going to kill him," Chloe realized, terror spiking through her like a bolt of lightning. Normally, nothing could kill Lucifer. But Michael had her, and she made Lucifer weak. And Michael had death in his eyes, his hatred palpable around them. It made her soul shiver trying to run from it, trying to keep the despair from settling in.

"It is my sole purpose written throughout time," Michael replied. "Even now, I hear the voices. They echo, so loud. The prayers. The pleas, without end: _Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls._"

Chloe knew that prayer, knew it from years of church services and funerals. She never stopped to think what it meant, not until now. Now...it made her blood run cold.

"He's your brother." Her voice was small, barely a whisper. She knew that Lucifer had a complicated relationship with his family. She knew that they were rarely ever kind to one another. But this...this was a whole new level of insanity.

"He is ruination," Michael countered, a hatred older than the universe itself bleeding through his words, his face, his very presence. And then, a smile crueler than any other he had graced her with before. "He is here."

Chloe wanted Michael to be wrong. She wanted him to be crazy, nothing more than a madman who thought he was an angel instead of a very real, very powerful enemy who happened to be very, very right. Because the footsteps that echoed down the stairs were familiar ones, ones that could only be created from expensive red-bottomed shoes, ones she would recognize anywhere. When she turned around, she knew who she would see.

Lucifer stopped feet from where Chloe was, Michael standing in the middle. Lucifer looked just as he did when he left, just as he did in Chloe's dreams: dark hair perfectly styled, three-piece suit perfectly pressed. His eyes sought her out, her breath catching and tears smarting at her own eyes in response. She didn't think she would ever get to see him again. And while joy bloomed where heartache had resided for so long, she wished he had not come at all.

"Lucifer, run!"

A hand - Michael's hand - wrapped tightly, painfully around her bicep, pulling her away.

Lucifer's gaze cut to Michael, red with rage.

Michael smiled. "Yes, brother. Run."

... _ ...

Dan whistled as he walked through the parking garage, spinning his keys around his fingers.

He was more than ready for a night to himself. He was grateful for Chloe taking on an extra night with Trixie. As much as he loved his daughter, he was looking forward to returning to his apartment full of peace and quiet. On top of the demanding nature of his work, these past few weeks had been weighing on him, the loss of Charlotte and his recent progression into the grieving process taking more than he had expected. And now there was this thing with Ella, maybe, that neither of them could understand. He just needed time, time to process, time to heal, and time to veg out on his couch and watch mindless television shows.

Of course, because God hated him, there had to be two people loitering around his car. Judging from their unkempt appearances and staggered movements, they were up to no good.

_Just what I need. Two junkies trying to break into my car, _Dan said to himself, putting himself into cop-mode.

"Hey, can I help you?"

The two trespassers turned towards Dan, black empty eyes gleaming with malice. Immediately Dan reached for his weapon.

"What the hell..."

"Daniel Espanoza," one of them said, voice like the rasp of a chainsaw. "You're a dead man."

They lunged.

Dan barely had time to process what was going on before he was knocked to the ground by what felt like the force of a wrecking ball. His ribs ached. He hissed in pain, clutching at his side. He reached for his gun but a boot kicked it away. Then, the same boot connected with his side, and Dan fell on his back.

There was someone over him. Someone with ice cold hands wrapped around his throat. They smelled musty, like earth and decay. It filled his nose, made him gag. Though, he was gagging for other reasons, like the lack of oxygen. His hands grasped at the ones on his throat, tore at the skin of knuckles and wrists. But it was like the person holding him down did not feel pain, did not register that chunks of their skin were being ripped away. They kept holding, kept pinning Dan down with more strength than humanly possible.

Maybe it was God. Maybe it was something else. But somehow his gun was within reach, fingers brushing against the handle, pulling it forward enough to wrap a palm around it. His vision was spotting. His lungs were on fire. His muscles had just enough oxygen left to fight the burn and pull the trigger.

The body above him flew backward on impact, blood splattering in a wide arc, staining the concrete. Dan felt some hit his face. It wasn't warm. It was cold. Dan didn't have time to think about that, didn't have time to question why as he scrambled to his feet, scrambled to find his keys, turning the driver's side lock with shaking hands.

Where was the other one? Where was the other -

Something heavy dropped on his back, dragging Dan across the car, slamming him into the driver's side window. He heard the glass crack, could feel little shards digging into his back, but the snarls and screeches from the person on his back were louder.

Dan moved to the best of his ability, trying to shake them off. But his attackers clung to him like glue, refusing to release him. It wasn't until Dan fell backward, slamming them against the ground that the arms in a vice around his chest fell slack. Dan heard bones crunch in ways that made him flinch, but he refused to look down as he got up. He was not jumped as he threw the car door open and turned the key in the ignition.

What the hell was going on? What the hell -

The assailant was up, and they were angry. They threw themselves on the windshield in a way Dan had only seen in zombie movies, rabid and flailing, like they could break through the glass with their bare hands. And perhaps this person could, their skull bleeding and bones broken moving like they had suffered no damage at all.

Dan panicked and threw the car in reverse. He tried not to think about the crunch as he ran over his other assailant. If they weren't dead before, they definitely were now. But Dan would be dead if he didn't go. Now.

He revved the engine and punched the gas. The remaining man stood in the way, clothes dirty, torn, and bloodstained, teeth bared in a nasty snarl. The car lurched forward, and Dan didn't stop moving until he made contact with the man, his body hitting the windshield and flying over the hood like a broken rag doll.

Dan put the car in park, heart hammering in his chest. He felt sick. He felt dizzy.

Did he really just - ? Did that actually - ?

But a groan from outside meant that this wasn't over. Not yet.

Dan opened the car door and stepped out into the garage. Behind the car laid the body of the man he had just hit, the pathetic piece of shit trying to crawl his way across the concrete away from the car. Dan was not going to let him get away so easy.

Dan grabbed the man by the leg, tossed him on his back, knelt over him, and started beating the shit out of him.

"What - the hell - is going - on!" Dan demanded, his words broken up between punches to the man's face. If Dan could even call the thing he was beating up a man, coughing up black blood and laughing like a maniac, like the punches didn't even faze him.

"It's too late," the man cackled, blood pouring from his busted mouth, from his broken nose, from every orifice and still he kept laughing. "He's here. The King of Hell cannot be stopped. He's out for blood, and everyone you love is going to die."

Rage coursed through Dan's veins. He had heard enough. No one, not even this so called King of Hell, threatened his family and got away with it.

Dan kept punching and punching and punching the man until his face was an indistinguishable mess of black and blue, until he stopped laughing, until he went completely still. It was then, when Dan realized he was punching a corpse, that he fell back on his ass and raised trembling, bloody hands to his lips.

He had gone too far this time. He had gone too far...

Then he remembered the words: everyone you love is going to die. He thought of Chloe and Trixie in the precinct. He thought of Ella in her lab. He needed to get up and get moving, needed to get back to the precinct, needed to let them know what had happened, needed to turn himself in, needed to make sure everyone was safe.

Dan didn't bother to move his car. Didn't bother to wipe his face or his hands of blood. Stumbling down the stairs and out the parking garage, he pushed forward towards the precinct. The precinct which was currently outpouring with officers that still had hours left on their shifts, all of them happy and laughing about their day off for all their hard work.

_What the hell?_

Dan didn't stop to ask why. He pushed through the crowd and entered the precinct.


	9. Leave Them in the Wreckage

_Sending out a message_

_Leave them in the wreckage_

_Unbreakable, powerful_

_Forces not to mess with_

-_ Heroes and Legends by 3 One Oh, Episode 4x10_

* * *

Leave Them in the Wreckage

The precinct was empty. Too empty. There wasn't even a spare guard like there was in the dead of night during the bare bones shift.

This was wrong. This was so, so wrong.

Dan could hear his heart beating in his ears, could hear his blood rushing like a tidal wave. Whatever was going on, whatever was happening, it wasn't good. And it was so much bigger than just two guys in a parking garage.

Chloe was not at her desk. There was no sign of Trixie. Either they had cleared out with everyone else, or worse. Judging by how Dan found Chloe's phone buzzing under a stack of half-opened case reports, her purse still in her chair and her desk phone off the receiver, he was guessing worse.

He bit down on his bottom lip and tried not to scream.

Thankfully, all the silence proved helpful in once way. From down the hall, he could hear the faint sound of heavy bass. Music. And it was coming from the lab.

Ella.

Dan took off in a sprint, yanking open the lab door and startling the oblivious forensic scientist. She had been in the middle of an experiment, headphone half-off, dancing badly around her work bench. There were microscope slides and open documents everywhere. And there were body parts, pieces from the case she could not solve last time when the dead did not stay buried. Ella looked at him, surprised and somewhat worried.

"Thank God you're still here," he said, the weight in his chest easing just a little.

"Dan are you okay? You're covered in blood, and all this gunk..." Ella started to go on a tangent, her voice fading to white noise as Dan started to look out all the glass walls and pull down the blinds. Then, he grabbed Ella's coat, encouraging her to put it on by physically taking her arm and putting it through a sleeve. It was at that point when she pulled back, holding up hands as if to fight him off. "Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?"

"We have to go, now."

"Would you mind explaining why - "

"No time, we have go," Dan insisted, pushing Ella towards the door. Even struggling, it wasn't hard. However, spying three staggering, dirty strangers wandering through the precinct out the window was enough to have Dan changing plans. He pulled Ella away and locked the door shut. "Shit, shit, shit! Okay, new plan. We need to barricade the door."

There wasn't much to work with. Most of the furniture in the lab was bolted to the ground. He could risk moving the filing cabinets at the cost of making a ton of noise and giving themselves away. But every second wasted was another second he couldn't get back. So, Dan went for the cabinet and pushed it in front of the door.

Ella just stood there watching and shaking her head.

"You have officially lost it dude," she said in that blase, indulgent way that Dan absolutely did not have time for. This was not a joke. This was not a game.

"Ella! Listen to me, okay? This is going to sound completely insane, but there are people out there in the precinct, right now, who want us dead. So help me barricade this door, or we're not going to make it out of here alive."

Something in his tone made her drop her smile. Worry took over full time. "Dan, you're scaring me."

"Yeah, well that makes two of us."

He jerked his head for her to peek through the blinds. When Ella turned back to him, her face had blanched.

"Oh my God. I recognize those people."

"You do? Who are they?"

"They're the victims of this week's murder cases," Ella replied, dread knotting in Dan's stomach. "Those people are supposed to be dead. I saw them cut open on slabs in the morgue."

"Fuck."

"Is this the zombie apocalypse?"

"I don't know. I don't - "

A hand broke through the glass, sending shards flying across the lab. Ella screamed, the noise sending the people outside into a frenzy. The others threw themselves at the windows, trying to create a bigger hole to climb through. A few went for the door, the heavy wood shaking under the assault. Thankfully the cabinet held its own, jostling and shaking as it was rammed into.

Dan pulled out his gun and shot at a hand visible through the glass. Black blood splattered across the wall, but did not slow the assailant. Ella reached for her chemicals, the corrosive ones, and threw them at the window as well. The assailants hissed in pain, wailing as the acids burned through their skin, through their clothes and at their limbs. But Ella had exhausted her limited quantity on one man, and the other two were quick to take their fallen comrade's place.

"Where is everyone!" Ella shouted, looking for back up.

"They're not here. It's just us."

This was so much worse than the worst case scenario, and Ella knew it.

Tears welled in Ella's eyes. "We're going to die in here."

"No we are not," Dan growled and fired his gun once, twice more. He only had one more clip left after he was through this one. He didn't know if it was a waste to use it now or to save it for later. The bullets only seemed to be weakening the glass instead of the assailants. But he refused to give up, not to these freaks. Not when he just got his life back.

"Do you have anything else in here we can use as a weapon?" Dan asked, taking a quick scan of the room. The glass was not going to last for long, not with the way these freaks were throwing their whole weight against the damaged parts relentlessly, like it didn't even hurt.

Ella shook her head in the negative, her eyes fixed on the growing cracks in the supposed-to-be-bulletproof window.

Then, one of the bastards burst their whole body through, spraying glass across the lab. Once one came, another clawed its way inside, then another. Dan covered Ella with his body, shielding her for whatever came next.

_I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe. I'm sorry._

Out of nowhere, a woman materialized and dropped on the lab bench. She had bobbed black hair and wore a burgundy cloak over top a black dress and shiny black boots, all to give an impression of an edgy Red Riding Hood. That was inconsequential, however, to the large set of glossy black wings that extended from her back.

"Who the hell are you?" Dan demanded, bewildered. This was not the time nor the place for some cosplay fanatic to dress up as a superhero thinking they could save the day.

"Rae Rae?" Ella said, stunned. Then, she turned to Dan, even more surprised. "Wait, you can see her?"

"What do you mean_ I can see her_, she just dropped from the freaking ceiling!"

"Now is not the time!" the woman shouted, tiny but mighty. She threw back her cloak, revealing a set of gleaming silver daggers. "Duck!"

Dan barely had time to process the command before those daggers went flying. They arced through the air with deadly precision, embedding themselves into the hearts of the assailants. Instead of falling to the ground, however, they immediately burst into flames, screaming and flailing, reducing their bodies to nothing but piles of ash. It was a horrific display, one that Dan had to turn his head away from.

The woman, however, was immune to the screams. She picked up the blades with grace, dodging lunges from another assailant and sticking her knife in its throat, cutting it open wide so that black blood sprayed across the entire lab. The metal boiled the veins where it touched skin, the body caving in on itself, crumbling to ash from head down.

There were a few more casualties, more screams and smells of burning flesh. Dan couldn't bring himself to look. He didn't let Ella look either, keeping her head tucked safely in his shoulder. She was crying; he could feel the wetness seeping through his jacket.

After what felt like forever, all was silent.

And then came the call. "They're gone. It's safe."

Ella peeled herself from Dan's shoulder, standing first and reaching out a hand to help him up. Dan's bones ached from where he had been crouched behind the lab bench for so long. It took a few steps to get himself to stop shaking.

The lab itself was a wreck. Shelves were overturned, equipment broken, the window in pieces on the floor. All of Ella's valuable research was ruined. All of her case files were scattered and mixed up, wherever they had landed. But they were alive thanks to this woman who was currently humming a happy song while cleaning her knives of black blood.

"Rae Rae what is going on?" Ella asked, shaken and freaked out of her mind. "I mean, you're my invisible friend! You're a ghost! And now you're out here, kicking ass, killing people? I can't believe it. And how can Dan see you too?" Ella turned to Dan, a questioning look on her face. "Did you almost die in a car accident when you were a child?"

"What? No!"

_What the hell kind of question is that?_ Dan wanted to ask, mostly because it was incredibly specific and he thought he had known everything about Ella.

"Ella, there is a lot I haven't told you," the woman - Rae Rae - said. She almost looked apologetic. If tiny murder-women with sharp black eyeliner and even sharper knives that turned people into piles of dust could be apologetic. "First thing's first: I'm not a ghost, and my name's not Rae Rae. Well, Rae Rae is a nickname. Not my full name."

"Okay, so who are you?"

"My name is Azrael. I'm the Angel of Death," she said, as casually as one reported the weather or what was for dinner that night. "And those weren't people I killed. Those were demons that were possessing bodies of the recently deceased. Now, I've sent them back to Hell, but there are far more where that came from."

"Wait, hold up, you really want us to believe that you're an angel?" Dan asked, incredulous. Had he hit his head during the fight and forgotten?

Azrael cocked a brow, like Dan was the crazy one. "You did just watch me slay those demons. You can see my wings with your own two eyes."

That...was true. Dan did watch a woman magically appear from thin air and vaporize impossibly strong, painless people that spewed blood as black as coal. Dan could see the feathers ruffling in those midnight wings, responsive in a way that could only be described as living. There was no way he was hallucinating, either, because Ella was experiencing this right beside him, and unless someone had released some kind of gaseous bio weapon into the precinct that gave them both the same visions, this had to be real.

Dan opened his mouth. When nothing to the contrary came out, he shut it. He was at a loss. "Fair point."

"Angel, ghost, whatever you are, why did you save us?" Ella asked, one hand on the cross she had only recently started wearing again._ Some time to rekindle one's faith._

"How could I not save you?" Azrael replied, hurt. "Ella, you're my friend. Not only that, you're Lucifer's friend. Both of you."

"You know Lucifer?"

"Well duh. He's my brother."

Dan was ready to laugh this off: another 'sibling' of Lucifer's that looked nothing like him but had the same crazy personality. Yeah right. What a load of bull. But Azrael wasn't laughing. Then the reality of what was going on hit him, and Dan was forced to realize something. If Lucifer was Azrael's brother, and Azrael was the Angel of Death - wings and all, then that meant...that meant...

_Oh, no._

"Lucifer he's...he's the - " Dan had to cut himself off, had to stop himself before his heart finally gave out.

"He's really the Devil?" Ella finished, her voice tiny and quiet, eyes rounded with horror like she didn't want to believe it any more than Dan did.

"Of course he is. He's the whole reason I came," Azrael replied flippantly, as if such things should be obvious. And maybe they should have been. Maybe they should have believed Lucifer and all his eccentricities from the start. There wasn't time to think about that. There wasn't time to let himself dwell on it when Azrael was already steamrolling onto the next thing. "Amenadiel prayed for protection for Chloe Decker. I was on my way to her when I stumbled upon your demon problem."

"Chloe?" Dan repeated, trying to process things as quickly as he could, finding it easier to latch onto things - and names - that he knew. "Chloe is in danger?"

"More than she realizes," Azrael said gravely. "Michael is here. He is hunting Lucifer, and he wants to use Chloe as bait."

_Shit_, Dan swore on repeat, his mind going through the most profane litany of curses. Most of him blamed Lucifer for this; he was always bringing trouble, especially to Chloe's doorstep. Added with the fact that Lucifer was the Devil, all the danger and heartache over the years only made more sense. And Dan hated him for it. He hated Lucifer for it so much. But there was nothing to be done about that now, not when the danger was real, and present, and Chloe needed everyone's mind focused on the task at hand and not on kicking the Devil's ass.

"Okay," Dan said, not really okay at all, but what else could he do? "Okay, what do we do now?"

"Now, we move forward."

With that, the three of them moved back out into the hall. It was eerily quiet, the bodies of fallen demons laying right outside the door. Dan had to step over them, paranoid that hands would grab at his ankles and drag him back down into the insanity. Not that things made much more sense up above, sneaking down the halls of his own precinct like a wanted man. Ella was not much better off, a paranoid mess that could not stop looking a million places at once. Dan grasped her hand and held it tight, grounding her. Ella tried to smile appreciatively, but didn't quite manage it. Dan didn't hold it against her. He didn't feel like smiling either.

Azrael stopped short, head swiveling to chase a noise only she could hear.

"Wait," she said, one arm outstretched to hold them back. "We are not alone."

She brandished one knife, gleaming silver and clean as if it had not spilled the blood of half a dozen demons. Ella stood close behind, near enough so that she stayed within the span of Azrael's wings, midnight feathers cloaking her like a shield. Dan opted to sweep behind them, making sure that no one snuck up on them as they made their way down the hall.

Azrael tracked the noise to a closet next to the vending machines. Dan pulled out his gun, ready for whatever was about to pop out.

Dan was not expected to see Trixie curled up in a ball, sobbing.

He immediately holstered his gun and knelt for his daughter to run into his awaiting arms.

"It's okay monkey, you're safe now," he assured her, running a hand over Trixie's hair, soothing her as best he could while his own heart still beat wildly in his chest.

"Daddy a man in yellow took Mommy," Trixie cried, burying her head in his chest. Anger coursed through Dan's veins, seeing red at the thought of someone hurting Chloe. "Lucifer came back and told him to stop. He followed them up the stairs."

Azrael grit her teeth, eyes narrowing to deadly slits. "We must follow them."

"There's no_ we_ in this. Ella, take Trixie and get the hell out of here," Dan instructed, pointing towards the door. Outside the sun was shining, and there were no demons in sight. They could make it to his apartment and batter down the hatches until this all blew over. Maybe that was just naively optimistic of him, but it seemed a hell of a lot safer than sticking around this freak show.

"No. It is safer if you all stick with me," Azrael countered, not liking the idea of splitting up one bit.

Dan, however, did not like the idea of putting his friend and daughter in the line of celestial fire. He pulled himself up to full height and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to contain his anger into bitter sarcasm. "So you're just expecting us to walk into Lucifer's trap?"

"Michael is only taunting Lucifer with the idea of losing all he holds dear. He and Lucifer have always been enemies but it's been...different...these past few years. He thinks that Lucifer's time on Earth, everything he's been able to experience, is undeserved. Michael thinks it is his duty to...restore justice."

"Let me guess: justice being death."

"Not just that, but the destruction of everything he cares about. His friends, his family, his home."

"Do all angels have such _touching_ sibling relationships? Or is that just how things go up in God's house?"

"Dan! Don't be rude."

Ella was right. It was stupid to taunt an angel, especially the Angel of Death. But Dan had said far worse to Lucifer, and at much more frequent an interval, and he had yet to be struck down. Azrael was not her brother, that much was for sure. Dan did not know how far to push, what lines to cross and which ones to tread cautiously, and Dan did not particularly care to learn at this moment when his life and the lives of everyone he cared about hung in the balance.

For an Angel of Death, Azrael looked particularly young and fragile, like a child. Especially when she was hurting, which Dan must have done in order to get her looking so despondent. Her brow furrowed, her dark eyes went glassy, and Dan had the strangest urge to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be okay, even if it was a lie.

"I haven't known a time when Michael and Lucifer weren't trying to kill each other, but I used to hear stories from when they were close. They created the stars together, did you know that?" Dan didn't know that. Neither did Ella from the gobsmacked look on her face. Azrael only looked sad, fiddling with the sharp edge of her knife. "Lucifer has always been good to me. Whether that was because of my job or because he truly cared for me, I don't know. All I know is that my entire life he stuck up for me, and I wasn't there for him when it mattered most. I won't make that mistake again. I won't fail him, and I won't fail in protecting his friends either."

"I trust you, Rae Rae," Ella said. Despite the fear, she wore courage and stood up tall. Her hand was tight around Trixie's, but Trixie was squeezing back just as hard.

This was a terrible idea. A terrible, no good, disastrous idea. Dan wanted to take Ella by the shoulders and shake sense into her, wanted to grab his daughter and take her somewhere where angels and demons were nothing but religious figure in a book as old as time. But the angel - the living, breathing, angel in front of him - was telling him that they were in danger, and as much as Dan didn't want to stick around to find out what happened next, he knew that Azrael was his best bet at fighting whatever they were up against.

Dan squared his jaw and nodded once. Azrael nodded in reply, resolute.

"Alright, we need to find Chloe before it's too - "

A loud crash and the sound of shattering glass followed by an agonized scream from above had Dan's heart falling to his feet. His entire body stopped. His blood went cold.

_\- late._


	10. When It All Comes Down

_You were my North Star_

_You were my always_

_You were my compass_

_Now I turn sideways_

_Who do you turn to_

_When it all comes down?_

_\- Ashes by Claire Guerrso, Episode 3x23_

* * *

When It All Comes Down

Chloe did not know what was happening.

One moment she was standing in front of her desk and the next she was standing in the middle of one of the conference rooms on the top floor of the precinct. Well, standing would be a poor choice of words. More like sliding across the floor from the force of how hard Michael threw her. He had grabbed her arm so tight she heard the bone start to crack. Even now, as she pulled herself up on her side, it hurt to use that arm.

Her head was spinning, the inertia from travelling that quickly making her feel nauseous. The room was blurred, her ears were ringing. But she could feel the ground shake, could feel the strong gusts of wind that surrounded her.

Gusts of wind...? What...?

Across the room, Lucifer and Michael grappled, wings tangled in one another's. The way they move almost looked like a dance. A deadly dance. The wings worked as extra limbs, grabbing and blocking and cutting. So much violence for children of God. So much violence for holy things.

"It burns you, doesn't it? That Father always favored me!" Lucifer taunted, getting in a good punch that sent Michael stumbling backwards into a desk.

"You were irreverent! Ungrateful!" Michael spat, picking up said desk and throwing it at Lucifer. The pieces shattered on the ground next to him, wood and metal flying across the room. "Always breaking the rules, seeing how far you could push yourself to the edge! And you still don't know what it means to fall."

Michael charged, ran at Lucifer with his wings spread wide so that there was no way Lucifer could step aside. He grabbed Lucifer by the lapels, the momentum of their collision sending Lucifer's back through the window. The entire pane shattered, glass raining on the angels.

Chloe screamed. She couldn't help it. Not when Michael had Lucifer dangling out a window.

Michael was a warrior. He was made for conflict. And Lucifer...Lucifer had not been accustomed to fighting anyone in a very long time.

He didn't stand a chance.

"Oh Lucifer, you never were very good on the battlefield. And that was before mortals made you weak," Michael sighed, grabbing Lucifer by the throat. His eyes bugged, his hands scrabbling to hold onto Michael's wrists. There wasn't just fear of strangulation, but something older. Something familiar. Like the past had taken hold of Lucifer as well in a strange version of _déjà vu_.

"Just get it over with, why don't you?" Lucifer rasped, glib even in the face of destruction. "Kill me."

Michael smiled and cocked his head, like Lucifer had made a particularly clever joke. "I don't think you understand our game. Not yet."

He pulled Lucifer back on solid ground, unceremoniously dropping him. Lucifer crumpled in on himself, hunched over and gulping in air like whiskey. The marks on his throat were livid and red. Lucifer tried not to touch them, hands shaking. Chloe wanted to run to him, to pick him up and tell him that he was going to be alright. But her line of sight was obscured by miles of horrendous yellow track suit.

"What are you doing?" Lucifer demanded, panic edging into his voice as Michael took Chloe once more by the arm, yanking her to a standing position. "Put her down!"

"Father assigned you to a lifetime of eternal damnation, and I'm going to give it to you," Michael said, free hand spread like there was nothing he could do about it. Like he wasn't the one responsible for this. He twisted Chloe's arm behind her, holding her back to his front in a vice so that there was no way she could escape. "Your friends, your 'family' here on earth, I'm going to take it all."

Chloe closed her eyes, tears squeezing past the edges. She sent a silent prayer to anyone, everyone who would listen to protect her daughter. It didn't matter what happened to her. Just someone, anyone protect Trixie.

"I went back to Hell! I did what Father wanted! I left this world behind!"

"But it's still here, isn't it? Calling you? Taunting you? What good is a punishment if you have something to look forward to after?"

Michael pulled a knife from his pocket, small and steel. It looked like any other knife to Chloe, but Lucifer's panic heightened even further.

Michael held it out for Lucifer to see, like a child might taunt another child with a toy. "I assume you know what this is?"

"How?" Lucifer asked, watching the knife now instead of his brother.

"Azrael had more made once you threw her favorite into the void," Michael said, turning the hilt so that the blade glinted in the sun. His malicious smile was aimed towards Chloe this time. "I wonder how complete and utter destruction will greet her."

"She doesn't mean anything to you!" Lucifer roared, anger flaring from a place of fear.

"But she means everything to _you_," Michael said, slow and self-satisfied as he drug the tip of the blade up the delicate column of Chloe's throat. "Now, beg for her life."

"Oh, the things I am going to do to you..."

Lucifer's hatred was a palpable thing, but so was his grief and his fear...and his love. Chloe felt it. And so did Michael.

Michael's grip on Chloe tightened. The blade dug in just a little harder, enough to break the skin and sting.

"I said,_ beg_."

Lucifer watched the thin ribbon of blood trickle down the knife. He focused on it, his chest rising and falling too rapidly. Panic, Chloe recognized. She didn't want him to panic. She didn't want him to do what Michael said, because Michael had ruined so much already. The both of them didn't have to die. Lucifer could leave. He could leave her behind like he did before. She wanted him to this time.

His eyes locked on hers and Chloe shook her head no. But, of course, he had to go and do the exact opposite of what she said.

Lucifer to his knees, bruised and bloodied and beaten. And he was so very desperate to save her. Lucifer was a proud man; to see him so low broke Chloe's heart.

"Please," Lucifer begged, desperation unlike any Chloe had ever heard coming from his split lips. "Please. I'll do anything you want. Anything...just.._.please_. Let her go."

Michael hummed. He stopped to consider, reveling in the sight of Lucifer at his feet, immensely satisfied. And then, Chloe felt Michael's arms loosen. Felt the pressure release from her neck. Felt him step away.

Was this a trick? Was this all he wanted?

Lucifer seemed just as confused, eyes shining in disbelief.

There was a moment of relief. A moment of joy.

And then there was pain.

Pain so immense and so sharp Chloe could barely process. Could barely turn her head to see that Michael had tricked them both. The knife was buried in her side, the burn of steel unforgiving, unrelenting, unbearable.

Michael pulled the knife out.

The last thing Chloe heard was the sound of screams.

... _ ...

Dan would have known that Azrael's scream was ear piercing. He would have known that it was terrible, an anguished wretched thing pulled from the very depths of her ancient soul. Dan would have known that Trixie was screaming as well, calling 'Mommy!' over and over again. Dan would have known that Ella was sobbing.

Dan would have known had he been listening.

The only thing Dan could hear was his heart beating - _stopping_. His breath catching. His entire world imploding as he watched Chloe, her eyes blown wide with terror, collapse in a heap at Lucifer's feet.

Chloe fell in slow motion. It took her years to hit the ground, years to stop moving, years for the red to start puddling out from under her. It took years for Lucifer to react, for his body to catch up - _to catch her_. He scooped Chloe up and held her to his chest, pale and uncharacteristically stoic.

Dan would have noticed the tears running down Lucifer's face if he had been looking.

All Dan could focus on was Chloe, completely silent.

And yet, Azrael was screaming.

Michael looked up from his carnage, manic glee tainted by manic surprise.

"Little sister..."

Azrael was still screaming when she threw the knives. They moved so quickly, the briefest flash of silver, that Dan barely caught sight of them. He flinched instinctively, ducking like he had before. Except this time Azrael didn't tell them when it was safe. This time, she went quiet.

When Dan looked up, the knife was buried in Michael's throat.

Michael let out a choking noise, eyes wide and startled and_ proud_. His fingers grasped at the knife, fingers dripping blood as he pulled it from his flesh and let the river pour. He smiled at Azrael, like he was impressed, like he didn't think the Angel of Death had it in her.

And then he fell. Just like Chloe.

Michael fell far enough that their puddles of blood did not mix. Far enough away that the gold of his halo dimmed without anyone noticing. Anyone except Azrael. She walked towards her mess, wings quivering with the weight of what she had done, and sank to her knees at Michael's body. Her screaming turned to sobs, head bowed low, small frame shaking. Dan was too shaken himself to go comfort her, too afraid of what may become of him if he got too close.

So Dan ignored Azrael, ignored her silent sobbing and focused on the other body on the floor.

The body that was now cradled in Lucifer's arms.

Dan's body moved slowly, jerkily, like his legs had forgotten how to work and each step was that of a newborn foal. Everything shook. His ground was unsteady. Thankfully it took less than ten steps to get to where Chloe and Lucifer lied.

Lucifer - who looked like he had been beaten within an inch of his life - was stroking Chloe's hair back from her face. Her eyes were closed. Her face was pale, peaceful. She could have been sleeping except for all the blood that soaked through her white shirt and onto Lucifer's.

Dan scrambled for her wrist. It was limp. Like a corpse.

_Don't think that Dan, don't you dare think that._

Tears smarted but he blinked them away. They were angry tears anyway, and anger would get him nowhere. Dan moved his fingers up Chloe's wrist, pushing in deeply, painfully, until finally -

_There._

Slow and whisper-soft, Chloe's pulse beat.

Laughter bubbled out of Dan, hysteric and relieved. Chloe wasn't dead. She was alive. She was alive and there was still time.

He was still laughing when he looked up. He wasn't laughing anymore when he looked at Lucifer.

In his panic, Dan had forgotten. It wasn't an act. It wasn't a delusion. Lucifer was the Devil. And the Devil was _here_.

Lucifer's eyes were_ red. _Not just red, but _fire_. The color of the embers that sparked their way through the blackest night, consuming the darkness until an inferno raged in its stead. Inside that inferno was chaos, was pain, was a rage all-encompassing. Dan stared into that inferno now, into eyes that promised unspeakable torments meant to last through the end of time, into a pain so old and so immense that it made Dan's bones ache. That inferno bled from Lucifer's eyes into his aura, into the flames that literally licked through his skin, like all that rage and all that suffering was trying to break free.

Dan was mystified. Dan was horrified.

Dan looked back at Chloe and realized that he didn't have time to be either.

"Lucifer, w-we need to do something. We have to help Chloe," he tried again, swallowing down the panic and the growing fear, forcing himself to stay calm in the face of certain damnation. He fumbled for his phone, the screen cracked and dirty but still operational. His fingers shook as he started to dial. "I'm calling 911."

"No," Lucifer said, his voice hollow and barely present. His entire focus was on Chloe, the inferno extinguishing, leaving only emptiness behind. "Too slow."

"Too slow? What do you mean too - "

The phone was ringing, the operator just picking up when Lucifer stood abruptly, holding Chloe in his arms like she was nothing. Like she was dead weight.

_Don't think that Dan, don't you dare think that._

Suddenly, where there was once an inferno, there was blinding light - white and hot and burning with a different kind of fire. And when the initial shock of light faded, and the details of feathers could be picked out from the mass, Dan realized that he was looking at another pair of wings.

Lucifer's wings.

They were the most beautiful things Dan had ever seen, pure as snow and luminescent. Dan yearned to touch them, to sink his finger into the downy plumage and keep the wings to himself. They called to him, driving him to salvation. They were driving him mad.

The irony was not lost that Lucifer looked more an angel than the others around him, that the Devil would be the picture of heavenly grace. But there was blood on his shirt and a dying woman in his arms and a somber scowl on his face.

Lucifer took one look through the shattered window, and with a great swoop of his wings left the precinct behind, blowing Dan back in his wake. Whatever power those wings possessed had Lucifer hurtling through the air, for when Dan managed to blink the spots from his vision there was no Chloe nor Lucifer in sight. It was just Dan in the middle of a broken room standing beside a puddle of blood and feathers.

Dan turned back to Ella, bewildered. Ella wasn't much more help. Her eyes were and full of tears, holding Trixie against her side, shielding her from what was going on. Trixie was trembling, yes, but she wasn't crying. She had her head bent low, her eyes squeezed shut...and her hands folded in front of her moving lips.

What was she doing?

The breeze picked up, stirring pieces of shattered glass and feathers. No, not breeze. There was something coming, a dark figure that grew closer by the second

If those demons had learned to fly...

Dan looked around for something to use as a weapon other than shattered glass that would hurt him more than whatever that thing was. There was nothing. His gun was empty and forsaken downstairs. He was defenseless. But he would be damned if he went down without a fight.

The figure hurtled into the room through the broken window, causing Dan to stumble backward. It was dark and mottled and...made of feathers? The feathers shifted, moved in a large arc to reveal -

_Oh shit. Oh fuck. Not another angel. _

Amenadiel stood with charcoal wings arched high, sharp edges folding in on one another until they vanished completely.

"Is everyone alright? I came as quickly as I could."

_No, Amenadiel, everyone is not alright. What kind of question was that? Angels are murdering each other. The mother of my child might not make it. And where were you when everything was literally going to Hell and Chloe was **dying** \- _

He walked right by Dan and knelt down in front of Trixie. "I heard your prayer. I'm sorry I wasn't quick enough."

Amenadiel reached out to touch Trixie's shoulder. Dan wanted to slap his hand away, wanted to take Trixie and run back to yesterday when he didn't have to believe in angels and demons. This world was not safe for a child, but Trixie did not cringe. She did not run. She did not cry, at least not for herself.

"It's okay," Trixie sniffled, wiping her tear-stained cheeks. "That's not why I prayed."

Trixie pointed to Azrael. That was all it took for Amenadiel to understand.

"You are worried about Azrael?"

"She was screaming. It hurt."

Amenadiel smiled in that sad, secretive way of his. "You are so like your mother."

Trixie smiled and Amenadiel rose to his feet. If Azrael heard him approach, she said nothing. She kept her head bowed and her sobs silent. Amenadiel surveyed the scene, his sadness a palpable thing.

"Oh Azrael..."

Whatever else was said, Dan did not hear. Their voices were low, the language they spoke not entirely of this earth. Dan let them be, grateful to step out of the celestial for a moment. He walked over to Ella and pulled his daughter from her so that Trixie rest in his arms. He just needed to hold her, make sure that she was okay. That all of this was over.

"Is everyone we know secretly an angel?" Ella whisper-asked loud enough that Amenadiel and Azrael definitely heard. "Because I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Dan didn't know how to reply to that. He was too mixed up to even make things okay for himself, nonetheless try to make it make sense to Ella.

"I will help Azrael return Michael's body to the Silver City," Amenadiel announced to the group, as if they all knew what that meant. He walked over to Trixie, looking her in the eye. He was always so serious when talking, always so sincere. "The bad man is never going to hurt you again. I promise."

Trixie nodded and sniffled. She believed him and Dan did too.

"Where did Lucifer take my mommy?" Trixie asked, tears welling in those large eyes. "Did he take her to Heaven?"

"No, Trixie."

"Is she in Hell?" Dan had to ask, his blood starting to boil at the very thought. After all he and Chloe had been through -

"Of course not," Amenadiel denied. "We crossed paths in the skies. He was headed towards the hospital downtown. They should be there by now."

It was all Amenadiel left them with. He turned towards Azrael, who had stood with head held high, one of Michael's hands clenched in her own. It was comical, how small she was compared to the size of the mess she had made. She fit her title well: Sometimes death and destruction arrived in the least-expected circumstances.

Amenadiel took Michael's other hand, spread his wings, and flew off, leaving Dan behind in the ashes.


	11. He Believes In Me

_Preying on the blood and_

_Having faith in only what they see_

_I don't believe in Satan_

_But he believes in me_

_\- I Don't Believe in Satan by Aron Wright, Episode 3x16_

* * *

He Believes In Me

Lucifer hated hospitals.

He hated everything about them: the smells, the sights, the sounds. He hated the false hope they proffered, the lie of the promise of healing when more people died within hospital walls than any place else. And there was nothing Lucifer hated more than a liar.

However, he was willing to believe in this sham of an institution for the Detective. Because without a hospital she would very well end up dead. That didn't mean he had to like all the poking and the prodding, the ban against touching, all the rules about how only direct family members could have access to medical information. Lucifer tried to use his powers of desire to sway a nurse or two, but he just didn't have it in him to be charming when everything he loved and cared for laid on a bed of stark white sheets, pale as a ghost and quiet as death.

So Lucifer resorted to peering through the detective's window like some kind of stalker, watching her chest rise and fall in time to her slow breaths. It was the only reassurance he had that she was still alive. It had been so hard to tell whether her chest was moving when she lied limp in his arms. He never wanted to feel that feeling again, and here he had already been forced to endure the experience twice.

The rooftop should have been the last time. He swore to himself it would be the last time. And there he was, lying to himself. Becuase as long as he stuck around, he didn't know how many more 'next times' there would be. So long as he was the Devil, so long as there was something or someone out there that hated him (and there were_ many_) Chloe would never be safe.

That was why he left. That was why he intended to stay away for good.

But what was the_ point_ if his leaving harmed the people he loved anyway?

_Did you know, Dad?_ Lucifer asked into the void that never spoke back._ Did you know what would happen if I left? Did you let Michael ruin me anyway?_

Lucifer didn't need a response to know the answer. It was always yes.

How fitting that God created two monsters: Lucifer on the outside and Michael from within. Lucifer would never forget the way Michael looked on that final day in the Silver City, his eyes like molten gold as they shone full of the desire to destroy. Sometimes, in his worst nightmares, Lucifer relived the moment he fell. Well, pushed, was more like it. With Michael's hands around his throat, throwing him from the pearly gates and down, down, down into Hell. Humans loved to depict that scene in art, in literature, in cinema. They loved to make a gory spectacle of it, as if the true version of events were not painful enough.

There would be no sympathy for the Devil.

What happened to Chloe was proof enough of that.

If she died...if she died Lucifer did not know what he would do. Whatever it was, it would not be pleasant for those up above. He would rain hellfire on his Father's front doorstep. He would fight through the whole of the Silver City just to get her soul back.

It wasn't her time. They were just getting started, and he wasn't about give up on the limited time they had left.

_Did you hear that Detective?_ Lucifer placed a hand on the glass, wishing he could reach her. _I'm not giving up on you so easily._

"Lucifer! I came as quickly as I could." Amenadiel ran to Lucifer, his chest heaving with exertion he did not have to spend. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "The others are right behind me."

Amenadiel was covered in blood, a lot of blood, but there was not a scratch on his body. Someone else's blood then. Terrible thoughts brewed in Lucifer's mind.

"What about Linda and Charlie?"

"They're fine. Safe," Amenadiel said, looking just as shaken as Lucifer. "Demons came to the house, but Maze and I managed to fight them off. I just wish I could have made it to you in time."

"It's not your fault brother," Lucifer said, looking at Chloe through the window, so small and fragile on the bed surrounded by sterile, beeping things. "I'm glad they had you to protect them."

"I should have been there to protect _you_."

Now there was a new one. Was it just Lucifer's imagination or was there actual brotherly concern in Amenadiel's expression. Had his brother fallen and managed to hit his head? Lucifer could find no signs of deceit and yet, it was so hard to believe that Amenadiel was sincere. After everything that had happened today, after an entire lifetime of having to deal with nothing but scorn from his siblings, this was...this was too much.

Lucifer didn't know how to respond.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

The others arrived just in time to spare Lucifer a brotherly heart-to-heart. Dan brushed past Lucifer, barely giving him a passing glance, Trixie wrapped in his arms. She waved to him as the door shut, brown eyes wide and scared.

Then, Dan closed the blinds as well. The douche. Lucifer couldn't see Chloe anymore. That set his teeth on edge, made his heart skip just a tad too fast. Lucifer couldn't go in while family was visiting. He would blame the two-visitors-at-a-time rule, but he never had problems breaking the rules.

The problem was, Lucifer had drawn an invisible line in the sand. A line that had never been there before. Now that everyone knew his face - his real face - he cast himself as separate from everyone around him. To cross that line would be to shatter the tenuous, delicate balance Dan, Trixie, and everyone else had built. And there was already enough tragedy for one day...

So, he stood facing the door for a moment longer, unable to move forward and unwilling to move back.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder. It was a friendly hand, but Lucifer still couldn't help but ruffle his feathers at the touch, that hand far too close to where Michael's hands had been wrapped just hours _\- eons_ \- before.

"Give them time. They will come around," Amenadiel said, all that angel wisdom coming through. Any other day and Lucifer would have told him to fuck off. Now, he could barely manage a nod before his brother left. Amenadiel had other things to worry about, like a child and the mother of that child. Lucifer was grateful for his intervention, but was also grateful to see him go. Now, he could be alone.

Or so he thought.

Ella was standing a safe distance away, eyeing both Lucifer and the door warily, like she hoped Dan would come back out so she would not be left with Lucifer on her own or maybe welcome her in so she could see Chloe...and also not have to deal with Lucifer on her own. It stung, the way Ella watched him now, dark eyes roving over every inch of him, trying to figure out where the horns would sprout and the flames would erupt. Lucifer tried not to let it show, tried to give her wide berth as he went to pass her.

What Lucifer did not expect was for Ella to follow him to the waiting area and sit down in the seat next to his.

"Sorry about your brother," she said.

Her hands figeted in her lap. Her eyes eyes remained fixed on the wall ahead - the clock, more specifically. And Lucifer got the distinct impression that she was facing one of her biggest fears by staying by his side.

"Don't be. I'm glad he's dead."

Was he though? Was Lucifer glad that his brother was dead? The self-centered, vengeful part of him said yes, said that Michael was a paragon of violence that was long overdue for the justice he got and deserved a millennia more. But the mortal part of Lucifer, the part that remembered days before the Fall spent basking in the light of stars, flying through the cosmos so that wingtips brushed wingtips, staining the skies with silver and gold, felt a cosmic grief. This grief was heavier than the grief Lucifer felt over the loss of Uriel. Strange how that was, when Uriel's death was Lucifer's responsibility. But Michael, in all his youth and glory, was Lucifer's responsibly as well.

How many times had Michael told him not to ask questions, to never ask _why_? How many times had Lucifer pushed him away? Lucifer was not the only one who lost everything in the Fall. Michael had lost his brother, his twin, his whole world.

Michael had channeled his grief into rage, and look at them now.

The tendons in Lucifer's throat flexed, as if they knew of whom Lucifer and Ella were speaking. Lucifer swallowed down the burning sensation, hands reaching to soothe the ache that he knew would never leave.

Ella's eyes followed the movement, getting larger as she saw the marks.

"That doesn't look too good." Her geniune worry made Lucifer's heart ache as well. "You should get that checked out."

"No need. They're permanent, I'm afraid." Lucifer batted her concerns away. The last thing he wanted was more pity. "Looks like we will all be walking out of today with our own little traumas."

Ella returned to staring at the wall. Lucifer would have let it be, except for the fact that Ella was shaking. Badly.

"Miss Lopez?"

"I turned my back on the Big Guy." Ella held her cross between her finger and thumb, skin pressed white with tension. "What if he doesn't forgive me?"

The fear coming off of Ella was intense. She was practically sick with it. This was something that had been weighing on her mind for hours now, something that was eating her from the inside out. And Lucifer didn't know if he could make it better. He was the wrong person to ask about forgiveness.

"Not to worry. Dad's only hard on his winged children. He's got quite the bleeding heart for you humans. I doubt you even made the naughty list."

That did nothing to soothe Ella's guilt. Tears pooled in her eyes. She looked like a kicked puppy.

"I said so many terrible things...I didn't believe in any of it."

Lucifer set aside all teasing. What Ella needed now more than anything was reassurance.

"Miss Lopez, there is no one more deserving of Heaven than you." He reached for her hands, grateful that she let him place one of his on top of hers without flinching away. "If the time comes and my father has remained willfully ignorant of one of the best and brightest of his creations, then I will tear down the gates of the Silver City myself."

"Y-you would?"

The wonder in her eyes was childlike and uncertain, like she couldn't quite allow herself to believe it.

"Of course." Lucifer held his tongue, then risked it all. "You're my friend."

Ella heaved forward and pulled Lucifer into a hug, burying her face in his neck. For the first time, the marks didn't burn.

They pulled apart just in time for Dan to walk into the waiting room. Both Ella and Lucifer stood as he approached.

"Daniel? What is it? Has something happened to the Detective?"

"Chloe's fine, or she's going to be fine. Trixie's in there now with her trying to get some sleep. She's been through a lot today. We all have." A collective silent agreement passed between the three. It was clear from Dan's tense stance that he blamed all of this on Lucifer. For the first time in their antagonistic relationship, Lucifer didn't fight thim.

"That's great news!" Ella exclaimed, rushing to pull Dan into a hug. So much hugging. Lucifer wondered how Ella could stand it.

It was great news. Phenomenal news. News that had Lucifer's heart soaring and singing songs of praise to a Father he normally despised. But if this news was so great, why did Dan look so antsy? Why were his shoulders slumped and his jaw tight and his eyes swallowed by dark circles?

"What aren't you telling us Daniel?"

"The sedatives the doctors gave Chloe should have worn off by now. Chloe's vitals are stable, her brain activity is normal, but she's still unconscious. They don't know why."

"Maybe she's just not ready to wake up?"

Leave it to Ella to always be the optimist. However, Dan was in no mood. Lucifer could feel it, the storm lurking underneath Dan's skin, just waiting to be released in Lucifer's direction. And it was close, permission to let the storm loose on the tip of Dan's tongue, on his next few words.

"You make it sound like she chose to be like this, when we all know - "

Dan's voice was lost amidst the lightbulbs going off in Lucifer's brain.

"Yes..."

Lucifer turned and started down the hall. He needed to get out of public view for what he had to do next.

Dan shouted after him, "Hey! Where are you going?"

"To get Chloe!"

... _ ...

Hell was just as uneasy as Lucifer remembered. She had seen quite a lot of turmoil these past few days, her ruler changing with every change in the breeze. Not that Hell saw a lot of breezes. Which just went to show how off things were.

Lucifer's palace was trashed, furniture overturned and broken like someone had blown through in a fit of rage. It very well could have been himself, though it was more likely the work of unruly, unsatisfied demons. They had gone wild under Michael's rule. They had forgotten the natural order of things. Lucifer would have to make them remember. But not now. He wasn't ready to be King of Hell again just yet.

He had scoured Hell's valleys and hills, traveled the magma banks and badlands, and yet there was no sign of Chloe Decker.

Where could she be? he asked. He had thought he was on to something back at the hospital. He had been so confident he was on the right track. But now...now Lucifer was not quite so sure.

In the throne room, Lucifer kicked something round and metal. He leaned down to pick it up, recognizing the warped circlet as something both familiar and despised: his crown, now missing several rubies and sporting a few dents. That crown had never graced his head. It had never truly symbolized his rule over Hell, but Lucifer could not fail to notice how its current state reflected his own.

Lucifer placed the crown gently back on its pillow.

When he turned around, Chloe was standing across from him. The Detective looked just as she always had: same coat and jeans, hair pulled up in a ponytail, green eyes searching for truths kept hidden. Most importantly, she was completely untouched by Michael.

"I can see why you were so eager to return," Chloe said with a little laugh, gesturing to the grand dark walls covered in priceless gems and artifacts. "This place is incredible."

_Incredible, yes,_ Lucifer agreed. Though not about the palace.

"Terrible is more like it. I hate this place. Besides, it all becomes inconsequential when facing losing what really matters," he replied, walking towards her. He needed to assure himself that this wasn't in his head. "How did you end up here? I looked everywhere. You weren't in a Hell loop."

"I guess because, unlike everyone else, I chose to be here."

"Why?" Lucifer asked, aghast. "Why choose Hell? You don't deserve Hell, Detective. You deserve so much better than Hell."

"I know. But I wanted to talk to you, and I figured this was the best way given the circumstance." She shrugged, far too nonchalant for the gravity of her situation. She didn't even appear bothered that her existence was teetering on knife's edge, far too close to the tipping point. "If I was going to die, and this was the last chance I had before…you know…then I wanted to tell you that it's not your fault."

The absurdity of such a false statement made Lucifer want to laugh. Laugh and cry and shake some damn sense into the Detective because how, after _everything_ that just happened, could she not see the truth? How could she even stand to be around him? Stomach the sight of him? How, how, how?

"Of course it's my fault!" Lucifer refused to think otherwise. He shut his eyes. Was this his own Hell loop? Would he be forced to endure the torment of his lost love, just as he had previously been forced to endure the torment of losing Uriel, over and over and over again? It was too much to bear. Too much.

A hand on his chest, gentle and grounding, had his eyes flying open.

Chloe stood chest to chest with Lucifer, close enough that he could see the concern etched into every line on her face. She was the one who was dying, yet she was only worried about him.

_Oh, Detective_, his heart sighed as he reached to touch her cheek. Her skin was warm and soft, nothing like death.

"How is this anything but my fault?" he asked, the question rhetoric. There was nothing she could say to change his mind, no argument she could pose to lift the crushing guilt. "Your life would have been so much easier without ever having met me."

"Maybe. But it would have been so much worse," she said, genuine affection pouring from her every word. And wasn't that the funny thing about creatures full of Grace? They didn't know how not to love, even the things that hurt them. "I wouldn't trade these past few years together for anything in the world. I don't regret a single thing. Except maybe all the time I wasted not believing you were the Devil."

Lucifer huffed a laugh. He didn't want to laugh. None of this was funny. Chloe was in a limbo state - she was in _Hell_ for Dad's sake. She shouldn't be there. She _couldn't_ be there. Lucifer wouldn't stand for it a moment longer.

"We can't stay here, Chloe."

He could stay; Hell was his kingdom after all. But there could be no them in Hell, not while Chloe still drew breath. Not while she was blessed with Grace and destined for a better place.

"I know," she said, reluctance in her feathered breath. Though she knew she had to go, she made no moves to step away. "Promise me you'll be there when I wake up?"

Lucifer could feel Hell pulling at him, her shackles reaching to bind her rightful king. She would have to wait a bit longer. Not even the armies of Hell could keep him away from his Detective. Not anymore.

"I promise."


	12. Epilogue: Hurry Back to You

_We already know the ending_

_When the credits roll down slow_

_I'll hurry back_

_To you_

_\- Restless by Cold War Kids, Episode 3x06_

* * *

Epilogue: Hurry Back to You

Despite what the stories may say, happily ever after was not the end.

Not that Lucifer believed in happily ever afters. Few events in his millennia of existence brought him happiness, and 'ever' implied a permanence that so very few things in this universe could achieve. Humans were fleeting, fragile things, and love even more fragile still.

So there was just 'after'.

This was after: standing in the lobby of the hospital, crowding around the healing Detective as she was finally deemed healthy enough to go home with little more than a scar to document her brush with an archangel.

Dan was talking to the nurse, Trixie running between him and the vending machine, trying to wheedle her way into a pack of frosted chocolate cakes. Ella tipped her head towards the sky, smiling to herself or whatever lied beyond, her faith restored as her fingers rest gently against the cross hanging from her throat. And then there was the Detective herself, hobbling slowly towards the exit, tired and battered but stronger than any force of nature. She was using Lucifer as a balance, gripping his forearm for support as she forced herself to walk. She refused to listen to any of Lucifer's protests that just because the doctor said she_ could_ get up and put weight on her wound didn't mean she _should_.

The glare Chloe gave Lucifer would have been enough to kill a mortal man. Seeing it only made Lucifer grateful that she was still alive to be annoyed at him.

Outside, the sun was warm and shining. The air was clear and devoid of the stench of bleach. Chloe closed her eyes, taking it in.

Behind them, the sliding doors hissed open.

"I'll go get the car."

Dan suggested it and no one volunteered otherwise. Ella followed closely behind him, the pair thick as thieves these days. Lucifer only hoped it was the shared trauma and not a shared sexual attraction. He could barely suppress a shudder at the thought of the chaos that would ensue if Ella and the Douche became an item.

Trixie stayed behind to hold her mother's hand. Strangely enough, she held Lucifer's other hand as well. Even stranger, Lucifer didn't pull away.

Chloe cocked her head to the side. She had her investigating face on, and Lucifer could hear the gears in her brain turning. "If Dan has to get the car, but he wasn't the one to bring me, how did I get here?"

"Well I flew you, of course. The ambulance was taking too long."

"It's true Mommy! I saw everything," Trixie said, her voice overly dramatic and wonderstruck in the way only a child's could be. "Lucifer's wings were huge! They took up nearly the whole room and they were so white, like that time you took me to New York to see Daddy's family and it snowed two feet. Except this was better because Lucifer's wings were _glowing_!"

"Yes, child, let's keep that to ourselves shall we?" Lucifer hushed Trixie's enthusiasm, as she had grown louder as her story went on and was starting to attract attention from the passing patients. "Children, hallucinations, pretty sure it's terminal."

The passerbys gave Lucifer a strange look before moving on. Trixie was also giving him a strange look.

"Where did they go, by the way?"

"Where did what go?"

"Your wings, dummy." Trixie pulled at the collar of his jacket for good measure, as if she thought he was stuffing them in his suit. "Where do you put them?"

Thankfully, the rumble of an engine saved Lucifer from enduring any more inane questions. Dan stopped the car at the curb and got out, elbows resting on the top.

"Trixie, why don't you go get buckled in, okay?" Chloe suggested, urging her to go to Dan as to save Lucifer more suffering.

Trixie gave Lucifer one lingering studious look before running to the car. Dan opened the door for his daughter, making sure she was secure. As much of a douche as Dan could be, Lucifer could never call him a bad father.

"I don't see how you endure it, Detective. The spawn's interrogations are relentless."

"She's just happy that we're both okay. It's her way of showing she cares." Strange as the offspring could be, Lucifer found the sentiment touching. He look to the car to find Trixie waving at them. They both waved back.

The Detective started taking, and somewhere along the way Lucifer stopped paying attention to the words and let himself be lulled by the Detective's voice. It was such a soothing, pleasant sound - comforting even. Lucifer never thought he would find himself enamored with a woman based on voice alone, but that was just one of the many mysteries of Chloe Decker. He would gladly listen to the Detective talk until the world ended.

"...and I'm sure there's a dozen cases piled up on my desk waiting for us when we get back."

Lucifer stalled in his step. He cocked his head, looking at Chloe with absolute befuddlement.

"Get back to what, Detective?"

"The precinct. You know, since you'll be staying." Chloe stilled, the happiness slipping from her face. "You are staying, aren't you?"

The resounding _yes_ was on the tip of his tongue, itching to be freed. Lucifer's soul ached for all he had left behind: for his Corvette and Lux and work and the Detective herself. The temptation was great, too great for even the Devil to combat. Which was why he had to remove the temptation altogether.

"Detective, you know as well as I the disaster that would come to Earth should I stay." Every word was a knife in Lucifer's heart, and in Chloe's. How selfish was it to leave after he ruined her life yet again. "Hell needs a King."

Chloe closed her eyes, tears leaking through the edges. Lucifer hated that they were because of him.

"You promised."

That was true. Lucifer did promise. But the Detective was healed now, standing on her two feet just as she did before he waltzed into her life, and would continue to do when he waltzed out.

"Come on Chloe, we have to go."

Damn the Douche for ruining a moment! Lucifer pulled Chloe close to him, wrapping her in his arms. She was the only person he would willingly hold, the one person who taught him what it meant to crave connection, and there he was, throwing it away.

_You are doing this for her. She is safer this way._

The excuse was stronger before his absence gave way to Michaels' chaos. But he had to believe that this was for the best, that holding the demons at bay gave the Detective and her offspring and everyone else Lucifer cared about the chance to live a relatively safe and normal existence. That's all he wanted.

He pulled away from the Detective, not ready to say goodbye.

"You're not going back to Hell."

Lucifer turned to see Azrael standing in front of them, her small yet proud stature bent under the newfound weight she carried, but not broken. Amenadiel stood by her side. Dan and Ella got out of the car to see what was going on, Trixie leaning up to see out the back window.

"I beg your pardon?" Lucifer asked, looking between his siblings, waiting for the punchline. "What's going on here?"

"You are not going back to Hell, Lucifer," Amenadiel said, stepping forward to place a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "You are staying right here where you belong. On Earth. With us."

"Forgive me, brother, but have you forgotten about the hoards of angry demons who are bound to realize I've gone at any second? The longer Hell goes without a king, the greater the risk of an uprising. I have to get back before they - "

"You're staying, Lou," Azrael said, stronger this time. She held out one hand to stop him, her chin stuck out as if he dared to defy her, and looked him straight in the eye. "I'm going."

"No. Absolutely not."

The rejection was automatic and immediate. Just the thought of sending his little sister into the bowels of Hell, full of demons twice her size with twice the bite, was repulsive. He would not subject anyone else to the horrors of Hell, least of all Azrael. This would not stand. This would not -

"I've made up my mind," Azrael said, as if she could hear his inner protests.

"I won't allow you to go. Do you hear me, Azrael? I won't allow it."

"You've already lost so much. You deserve to be happy, Lou." The pain and grief in her eyes reflected Lucifer's own. "And I...I need to do this. I need to serve my punishment for killing Michael. It's the only way I will be able to accept what I did."

"Azrael, I..."

It was rare it happened, but Lucifer didn't know what to say. An eternity of existence and this was the kindest, most selfless thing anyone had ever done for him.

"It won't be forever," Azrael said, her eyes wide and pleading. Damn her for that look! She knew it always got her whatever she wanted. "Please, let me do this."

_It won't be forever. _The words rung in Lucifer's ears. No, certainly not forever. Forever to an angel meant to the end of the universe, but forever to a human was a handful of years, decades if they were lucky. The span of one lifetime.

Lucifer was not ignorant to the gift Azrael was giving him. He looked at Chloe, her face full of hope, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. She would never tell him what to do, never try to force him down a path, but it was clear what she wanted. She wanted him to take Azrael's offer. He wanted that too.

Lucifer pulled Azrael into a tight hug, hiding his face in the crown of her head. It wasn't to hide misty eyes. Absolutely not.

"Anything goes wrong, anyone steps a _toe_ out of line, you let me know and I'll deal with it, alright? Promise me that." Azrael nodded, though Lucifer knew it was more to humor him than any intention she had of actually following through. Azrael was more than capable of handling herself. Still, it eased the knot of guilt in Lucifer's chest to have her agree to his terms. "Good. Can't be having the only sibling I tolerate flayed alive by an overeager demon."

Amenadiel rolled his eyes. He knew Lucifer was joking; Lucifer was glad to have more time with Amenadiel, even if Lucifer would never admit it out loud.

Azrael pulled away to say her goodbyes to Ella, Trixie, and Dan, but Lucifer couldn't hear them. Not overtop of the shock that sent his heart beating in his ears. There was hugging on Ella's part and Trixie's, and begrudgingly on Dan's. Azrael could never pass up a chance to hug even the most unwilling of participants.

Azrael gave a two-finger salute and then she was gone, spreading her wings and taking off for Hell.

Lucifer exhaled a shaking breath.

Was this what freedom felt like? A sheer and utter sense of terror?

A hand in his drew Lucifer's attention. Chloe stood by his side, looking not where Azrael once stood, but directly at him.

"She will be alright, Lucifer." It was Amenadiel who spoke, confident and sure as he always was. He stood on Lucifer's other side, staring where Azrael once stood. "She is strongest of us all."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to repay her."

"Some favors are just that: favors." Amenadiel said, looking at the friends they had gained. Their small, dysfunctional family, perfect in every way. "The best thing we can do is enjoy them while they last."

Amenadiel gripped his shoulder, then walked away.

"Are you alright?" Chloe asked.

"What a spectacularly idiotic question, Detective," Lucifer huffed, no real heat to it. Chloe's lips curled up into a smirk, ready to banter back. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question, seeing as though you were the one to get stabbed and all?"

"I'm more than fine," Chloe replied, her smile luminescent and content in a way he had not seen before. "I've got everything want."

The intensity of Chloe's admiration, her love, was overwhelming. Lucifer was going to need time to get used to that, and to resist the urge to shy away from it.

"You sure you didn't hit your head on the way down?" he asked, just to make sure.

Chloe laughed and Lucifer did too.

"Come on," she said, tugging on his wrist towards where the others were gathered.

"In a moment, Detective. I just need to..."

Lucifer had no reason to stay behind, but he needed a moment. Chloe, wonderful, incredible, beautiful Chloe seemed to understand, reading his desire like an open book. She nodded and let go, joining the group and pulling Trixie up into a hug. She probably should not be doing that; she'd pull a stitch. But they looked so happy, all of them, smiling and laughing and unharmed.

How could Lucifer had gotten so lucky? How could he possibly deserve something like this?

Chloe smiled and beckoned him over. Whatever the reason - whether it be a cosmic fluke of his Father's oversight - Lucifer was done hanging on the sidelines.

Chloe was right.

He had everything he wanted.

..._...

The throne room was dark and messy. Azrael navigated it carefully as not to trip, her long cloak sweeping across obsidian floors. Before her sat a throne, though not as magnificent as the one she had passed on her flight down, one that towered high on a perilously thin stalagmite.

It was hers now. All of it.

Azrael's hands hovered over the arms of the throne, hesitant to touch. The weight of responsibility was immense. It scared her...

...but so did the rustling coming from behind.

Blades in hand, Azrael spun just in time to stall a gruesome-looking demon from clawing her. The point of her knife pressed into the apple of its throat, moving in time to its shocked swallow. Large black eyes went wide and guilty with shock. Clearly it expected such a small angel to be easy prey.

Claws lowered themselves to the demon's sides. The demon stepped away, placating.

"I yield."

Its voice was a gravelly rasp, and none too friendly. Azrael would expect nothing less from a demon. If they were all so easily subdued, however, this job might prove far easier than she expected.

Azrael sheathed her blades, but did not let her guard down. She released her wings, making a statement that further subdued the demon. Their pitch black body and razor-sharp edges made for good protection.

Something in the demon's possession glittered.

"What do you have there?" Azrael stepped closer to see that it was a crown - bent and worse for wear, but a crown nonetheless. "Bring it here."

The demon grunted but obeyed, hobbling over to hand the crown over to Azael. She took it in her small hands, pale skin standing in sharp contrast to gnarled, burned claws.

"What do I call you?"

The demon cocked its head, once more surprised. Maybe this was when Lucifer reduced the impudent demon to ashes. But this was Azrael's kingdom now. New ruler, new rules. And she would need allies if she wanted to make a get anywhere.

"Squee."

"Pleased to meet you, Squee. I'm Azrael." She stuck out her free hand for the demon to shake. Squee was definitely looking at her like she had a few screws loose, but he took her hand anyway. "I'll be ruling Hell for a while, Lucifer's orders."

Squee grunted. "Is that so?"

"It is."

The two stared each other down, locked in a battle of wills to see who broke first.

It was Squee who broke.

Azrael smiled, victorious. "Squee, I think you and I are going to be good friends."

Squee grunted again. He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like_ crazy fucking angels._

"So," Azrael said, placing the crown on her head. The heavy metal fell lopsided, but the hellfire ignited all the same, coating the crown in a halo of flames. It must have looked quite ridiculous. "How does it fit?"

Squee flashed a crooked grin. "I think fits you just fine, My Queen."

Around them, Hell rumbled her approval.

Long live the Queen.


End file.
